


After You

by NoeticEdda



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Uprooted - Naomi Novik
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Amilynthus, Angst and Romance, Banthas (Star Wars), Bathtubs, Bubble Bath, Candles, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, Flowers, Food, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Mages, Forests, HEA, Happy Ending, Jawas (Star Wars), Light Angst, Mages, Magic, Marriage Proposal, Moonlight, Mushrooms, One extremely large bronze colored silk velvet chair, Oral Sex, Orphan Rey (Star Wars), Outdoor Sex, Rain, Ravens, Romance, Sex Magic, Sex Pollen, Smut, Taverns, The Force, The Sith, Vaginal Sex, Wizard Kylo Ren, Woodlands, herbs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoeticEdda/pseuds/NoeticEdda
Summary: Once a young woman turned eighteen, she could be selected as Apprentice to Master Ren. When Rey was passed over on her eighteenth and nineteenth birthdays, she felt relieved.Then, that night came when she heard a knock at the door...The Wood Beyond the World is verdant, vast, full of darkness and secrets. The villagefolk know better than to cross its borders, preferring to stay in the safety of the valley.Rey is a free spirit, unattached to the trappings of normal village life, having practically raised herself since being orphaned at the age of five. She's capable, independent... if perhaps a bit lonely.When she has the misfortune of being selected to live at the Silent Tower for a year of apprenticeship to the taciturn, universally disliked local Mage, not all is as it seems--not him, not her. And least of all, the Wood.[a fantasy AU loosely based on Uprooted by Naomi Novik]
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 107
Kudos: 235
Collections: Anniversary Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slaydel_connix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slaydel_connix/gifts).



> Prompt: "An AU similar to the novel Uprooted where Ben is the put upon, finicky master magician and Rey is his grumpy, stubborn, unwitting apprentice and together they defeat the spirit who is controlling the evil forest"  
> thanks to [midnightbluefox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightbluefox/pseuds/midnightbluefox) for taking an initial look at the first few chapters!

He was aloof.

And he was particular, like someone who had arranged their rooms _just so_ for a decade. There were still haphazard-looking piles of books, stacks of papers and scrolls—but he knew where everything was at all times. This book went precisely here, but it was to remain open. That candle stayed there and only there… 

Rey rolled her eyes as she entered his chambers, not so much in judgement but more in silent acknowledgement to herself that _yes_ , of course it would be like this. Hearing about Kylo Ren for years from the local villagers and his former Apprentices had made one thing clear: he was exacting. One of the last girls fled abruptly and moved across the continent. Three others were quickly dismissed, and that was just in these past two years. 

Once a young woman turned eighteen, she could be selected as Apprentice to Master Ren. When Rey was passed over on her eighteenth and nineteenth birthdays, she felt relieved. By twenty, most women would be setting up shop in town, or looking forward to being a bride, or joining up with the Women’s Guild. 

But Rey was a wild thing; always foraging on the edges of the Darkling Plain, running with lothwolves, sometimes even creeping into the Wood Beyond the World. Not too far in, of course, but it was where she could find the best mushrooms and trade them for three quarter portions a sack instead of the usual two-thirds. 

Rather than donning the traditional braids the local women wore, Rey kept her hair up in a bun; more practical. She was good with animals and children, and thanks in part to her wiry frame, an ace tree-climber after honing the skill with countless falls. She was known to the locals as someone who could fix just about anything you brought to her, no matter its state of disrepair. For a person whose parents left her to fend for herself at the age of five, she was about as capable and self-sufficient as you could be.

Then, that night came when she heard a knock at the door, and immediately felt a knot form in her stomach. She had known it was him, and known what it meant. Her little hut wasn’t much, but it was hers; she had worked hard for it. And the thought of leaving her hard-won home for a full year to apprentice in the Silent Tower—when she’d probably be dismissed, when she was certain she wasn’t cut out to become a Force Mage… well, it was an unwelcome knock, to say the least.

When she opened the door, he was hooded and cloaked in black; tall and broad like an elm. She could barely see his face, but something in her gut twinged, maybe out of nerves. Or resentment. 

He said nothing. 

She said nothing. 

As she gathered up a few sentimental objects, he performed an odd little wave of the hand that swept up all her other belongings and, as they transformed into a tiny ribbon of color in midair, he directed it with one finger to fly into the sack she was filling. The house was suddenly empty and he simply extended his arm towards the door as if to say, _after you_. She furrowed her brow and trudged out of her hut towards the Silent Tower. Before long, she was in his dimly lit chambers, surveying all the oddities he had curated.

She wasn’t going to speak first.

Ren walked over to a glowing hearth, bidding the chamber door shut with a wave of his hand. He agitated the embers with a large poker. Apparently he picked and chose when to show off his Force Magic. _Or maybe stoking a fire was beyond his capabilities_ , Rey thought with a private edge. 

As if he heard her thoughts, he flicked his wrist and the embers became a roaring fire, sending sparks flying across the room to ignite torches along the stone walls, bathing the chambers in an orange glow. 

He pulled his hood down to meet her stare, revealing lustrous black hair that fell in front of his eyes, which were fixed on Rey with a severity that felt incongruous with their warm oaken hue and… was it sadness? She tried to conceal her surprise at seeing his face. He was younger than she expected, with an aquiline nose and a few distinctive moles dotting alabaster skin. Despite their piercing glare, his eyes had a vulnerable look, like someone who had been deeply lonely for many years. His was not the face of a cruel man, despite all reports to the contrary. It was… something else.

She still wasn’t going to speak first.

But she wouldn’t need to. Ren gathered a pile of books and walked over to Rey, thrusting it into her arms. On top, she saw a scroll with a map of the Tower, and a room clearly marked, “Apprentice.” 

Then he waved the door open again, and she understood his tacit instructions. 

_Go to your room._

She left his chambers and as soon as she was out in the hall, the door slammed shut behind her.

———

He came to her early the next morning, before first light. She had been flipping through the stack of books he had given her, drinking a strong, fragrant tea that was inexplicably next to the bed when she first opened her eyes. 

There was a knock at the door, and after a few moments, it opened on its own. When no one appeared, Rey folded the corner of the page she was reading and stood up to investigate. She walked to the doorway and looked down the hall to the left. Nothing. She looked to the right; nothing. As she turned to step back inside, he was standing in the doorway with her, his imposing frame just inches away. It startled her but she did her best to hide it.

He held out a dark green cloak and she took it, then she watched him turn and walk down the hallway. When she hesitated, he stopped— and without looking back at her, the signal was clear: _follow me_. So she tossed the cloak over her shoulders and walked a few paces behind him. 

He didn’t look at her again until they were outside the still-slumbering village as they reached the edge the Darkling Plain. A fog had settled over the valley overnight, and Rey was surprised by how warm the thin cloak was keeping her. Ren turned to her as they approached the Wood and uttered a single word to her in a quiet baritone. 

“Mushrooms.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he extended his arm again in another patronizing _after you_. He must want to know her secret spots for foraging. Fine, she thought. She wouldn’t fight the directive he gave her, but whatever this was, at least he finally spoke first. She won that round.

Rey led him to a couple of trees that formed an archway into a particularly dark stretch of the Wood. As they entered, the grasses of the Plain were replaced by taller bushes with berries, and once they crossed through the archway, they were surrounded by dense ferns and mosses forming the forest’s damp undergrowth. 

She scanned for the right combination of lichens and overturned tree branches. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a tiny blue butterfly and knew they were close to a patch of ghost mushrooms. They grew next to weeping buds, and the butterflies were drawn to the flowers’ sweet, melancholy fragrance. 

“Here.” She crouched down next to a hollow, moss-covered branch on the forest floor and pointed to the opalescent fungi that were prized for their psychotropic qualities. Old women dried and ground them up for stirring into warmed goatsmilk, which they used as a pain tonic for the very ill or gravely injured. Old men administered them raw to teenage boys when it was time for them to become men. The visions they induced were powerful when eaten uncooked, and it was a rite of passage.

Ren crouched down next to her, examining the little clump of mushrooms. Then, without a word, he began walking out of the Wood. Rey’s patience was wearing thin as she followed him out.

“You don’t want any? Already have plenty, I suppose? Do you know how much those would fetch in the village? What was the poi—”

He shot her a steely glare, then kept walking.

“Am I not your Apprentice? If I’m going to be cooped up with you in that Tower for a year, isn’t it supposed to be instructive?” 

He didn’t turn around.

“Master Ren!” She didn’t mean to shout so loud. It echoed across the Darkling Plain and a hawk suddenly flew out of the forest canopy, disappearing over the sightline of trees.

He stopped walking and turned to look at her, his face inscrutable. They were in the middle of the Plain and a lingering morning mist obscured the edges of the Wood and the walls of the village. Rey waited for what must finally be a reprimand. Instead, he extended his hand, opening it slowly to reveal a dozen of the tallest ghost mushrooms. 

The walk back to the Silent Tower was… silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-----thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

They settled into a routine of sorts. The most reliable thing was each morning when Rey awakened to the same strong tea sitting on the little table next to where she slept. 

Her rooms were spacious; not what she expected. There was a sizable bed with warm, unfrayed linens, and a bookcase containing an eclectic mix of old tomes and knickknacks. She sometimes opened a book and sat at the writing desk, since it stood under a large, lattice-paned window in the style of a pointed arch, reaching almost to the ceiling. Many of its panels were in brilliant jewel tones that caught the light in the afternoon, dappling the room with rich pebbles of color. But there was a bronze velvet chair she liked the most; wide enough for her to stretch across, and deep enough to sink into. Some nights she even fell asleep there, with a book instead of a blanket.

The washroom was larger than some huts in the village, and she had her own talon-foot bathtub with a full apothecary cabinet for her own use. Baths were a rare luxury— she usually didn’t have enough credits for the public bathhouse, so she washed herself in hidden streams. Having a whole room just for bathing was decadent. 

Rey was naturally suspicious of how comfortable the accommodations were, but at least it was something she could look forward to at the end of each puzzling, if not altogether trying, day with Kylo Ren. 

Most days he sent a message for her to meet him somewhere. The messages would take different forms. Sometimes they were written in iridescent ink on the door, only to disappear later. Or a tiny scroll with elegant handwriting would be waiting next to her tea when she woke up. And then there were the days he’d show up at her door unannounced, without so much as a good morning, and she’d follow him into whatever part of the Tower where he was conducting his research that day.

She observed him quite a lot. But he was beginning to give her some practical lessons on rudimentary Force Magic. The first skills he taught her were how to light a fire with your mind, and how to likewise smother it. The language of the Force was ancient and silent, like the Tower itself, and an Apprentice could only learn from a Master. 

At least, that’s what Rey was meant to believe.

There was a part of her that resisted the tired, old belief that the Force was so very _exclusive_ to a rigid Master-Apprentice relationship, when it was known to be an energy that connected all things, living and dead, light and dark. 

Then again, she had little to go on. No teachers, no family connections. She was just an orphan who had more or less raised herself on the fringes of village life, avoiding the Orphan Warden as much as possible, relying on the occasional kindness of strangers and her own constant will to survive. 

Learning how to light a fire and boil water without any fuel or kindling was a trick she was very glad to master. That took her no time at all. Master Ren seemed pleased… at least, she thought he did from the rare, subtle clues she could read on his face. He said so little to her; he even kept his cloak on most of the time. She had wondered if he was afraid she would run away like the last few Apprentices. But she didn’t mind her situation as much as she expected. He had nothing to fear there. She was quite comfortable having her own bathtub, for starters. And she liked learning. She missed running with lothwolves and even chatting with the local gossips, but Ren seemed to want to be outdoors quite a bit himself, so Rey got her fill of fresh air and began to see her time at the Tower almost as a privilege rather than a burden.

Still, she was impatient, eager to learn more. More about Force Magic, and more about Kylo Ren.

It was the end of her first week, and they were spending the afternoon in the kitchen, if you could call it a kitchen—it was more like a storeroom for dried herbs that also happened to be where their simple meals appeared. According to the villagefolk, there was a cook and even a maid, but Rey never once saw them.

Rey was busy with her mortar and pestle, while Kylo Ren portioned out tiny shards of shimmering volcanic glass into several flasks. Each was filled with a viscous fluid that turned purple on contact with the flecks of glass. He was absorbed in his work, meticulous as he plucked each shard from its counting pile with little tongs made of bone. Rey imagined he didn’t want to chip and therefore lose even a speck; he was never wasteful.

While he was concentrating, Rey’s mind wandered. She started wondering where Kylo Ren was born, what led him to this solitary life. No one knew much about him except that he came from a family of Force Mages— all but his father, who was some sort of vigilante. Or was he a famous pirate? Rey couldn’t remember. 

As her thoughts ran away from her, she heard the tongs fall to the table from where Master Ren was sitting. He didn’t look up at her, but she spied a tiny drop of blood on his finger. He must have become distracted and let the sharp glass slip. He cursed, then sucked his finger, his eyes slowly drifting up to meet hers. She felt her face grow warm and quickly looked down, trying her best to act like she never saw anything. But she felt his gaze linger on her for a few moments while she busied herself with the pineberries, before going back to his work.

Once he was immersed in his delicate task again, Rey began to experiment with the mortar and pestle. She trained her mind on the objects, on the repetitive movement of grinding pineberries into a paste, and attempted to train the tools into moving themselves, removing her hands slowly. The result, instead, was her pestle flying across the room to hit the wall, and her mortar upending, causing her to lose most of the pineberries as they clattered and rolled across the floor.

Her eyes shot over to Ren in embarrassment. He looked at the berries strewn around the storeroom, and then turned his eyes to her, and let out a disappointed sigh. But when he lowered his head back to his sorting, Rey could have sworn she saw his lips twitch, betraying the slightest hint of a smile that wanted to crack through his stoic mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-----thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) for her eyes on this chapter!  
> 

A couple of months into Rey’s year at the Tower, they were on yet another excursion to the edge of the Wood Beyond. This time it was in search of a mysterious creature the Takoszdana villagers claimed they caught breaking into their gardens and stealing their porg eggs, only to evade capture. 

Ren had heard reports that the creature was small and hooded, that you could only see its glowing eyes, and that it was fast. Rey knew better than to believe everything the villagers had to say. Still, there were legends of the Jawa that seemed to circulate with some regularity, and she had seen stranger things when she ventured too far into the Wood.

As they neared the middle of the Plain, Ren broke his customary silence.

“Have you ever seen a Jawa?” He sounded casual as they walked side by side.

Rey quickly blinked twice, surprised that he was making conversation, but kept her eyes ahead.

“No, Master. I’ve heard tales for years but… thought it was just a folktale.”

“It’s not a folktale.”

“…Oh.” She didn’t quite know how to respond. Was this smalltalk? Was it part of a lesson? 

“They live deep in the Wood. But they haven’t come out for… a long time.”

“I see.” 

“If the reports are true, there is a Sith Lord rising in the Wood.”

Rey stopped in her tracks.

“I thought the Siths of the Wood were vanquished hundreds of years ago—”

“They weren’t.”

He seemed deadly serious. To be fair, Rey wouldn’t know what he looked like otherwise. But she felt the weight of his mood, felt his certainty. Perhaps there really was something to it.

They resumed their walk across the Plain, surrounded by fog, two tiny cloaked figures with their hoods drawn against a thick sea of grey mist.

After they crossed the wild, brambly edge of the Plain and into the beginning of the Wood, Rey asked where they were headed. She normally wouldn’t ask—they would just end up somewhere, or she’d get his signature _after you_ arm gesture and maybe two words at most to indicate where he’d like her to take him. He was often trying to learn yet another one of her secret places. But today was different, apparently. They talked now.

“Where are you taking me today?” 

“You’re taking me.”

“Where am I taking you, then?”

“To your stream.”

“What stream? I don’t have a stream, I… I have several, actually.” 

“Your favorite, then.”

She didn’t have a favorite, but he’d be none the wiser. So she led the way toward one of the quieter streams, where barely any light shone through from the canopy. It grew so dark as they walked that they both removed their hoods in order to widen their field of vision. They passed through a thicket of bitterbirch trees as tall as Rey, far below the forest ceiling. Ren’s head, however, stuck out above the grove, dim light reflecting off the black lustre of his hair. Their faces brushed against the soft, round leaves that shifted from green to blue depending on the time of day. It was late into the afternoon now, so the leaves were turning a dusky teal.

They emerged from the trees into a glade revealing a shallow ravine and a stream at its bottom. There was a thick blanket of quiet, the only sound being the stream trickling over smooth stones. The longer you stayed there, the less you could tell if the sound of the water was from the stream, or if it was the blood in your own veins. 

Rey lingered back a few paces, taking in the beauty of the glade, breathing in the cool air deeply. Kylo Ren walked up to the bank of the stream, removed his cloak and draped it over a large rock, then crouched down to run his fingers through the water. She noticed his figure from behind, his broad frame clad all in black, with fitted trousers and a high-collared tunic of a fine woolen material stitched to resemble dragon scales. There was an odd pang that shot through Rey’s core when he knelt down, resting one foot under his muscular buttock. She shook her head, dismissing the feeling, and made her way to the bank.

“This is fine,” he said coolly, wiping his wet hand through his hair before standing back up.

“What are you hoping to learn here, Master Ren?”

“We’re testing the waters.”

_Oh, of course, whatever that meant._

He reached over to the rock where his cloak was strewn and retrieved several small bottles from an interior pocket. Then, he turned to Rey and knelt back down at the water’s edge.

“Here,” he said, handing her a bottle. “Just a drop.”

Rey crouched down next to him and took the bottle. She pried open the little cork and swished the contents gently. The fluid turned purple as it swirled with a tiny fleck of volcanic glass inside— what Ren had been preparing the other day. She lifted it to her mouth.

“No!” He snatched it from her with lightning reflexes.

“Oh!” She wasn’t meant to drink it. Maybe it would have helped to know that _beforehand._

He looked terrified, then drew in a large breath and sighed in apparent relief.

“You know, Master, if you were freer with words, perhaps I wouldn’t make mistakes like that.” She felt emboldened by her brush with danger, like she had the upper hand. If she had drunk his concoction and something terrible happened, it would be his fault.

“Don’t drink things if you don’t know what they are.”

“You said to take a drop!”

“I said _just a drop_. Didn’t say where to put it. Certainly not your mouth.” His expression turned almost sweet as he let out a little puff of air. 

Did he just… _laugh ?_ Rey was dumbfounded. 

Ren quickly looked back down at the water, shaking his head. “So just one drop. Into the _stream_.” 

She complied and tipped the bottle ever so slightly into the water. Nothing happened. His eyes were fixed on the water.

Rey looked at him, then looked at the stream again, and saw the water freeze before her eyes. It was solid within moments.

“What…” Her instinct was to reach out and touch it, but she thought better of it. Then, her amazement rendered her suddenly clumsy, and her foot slipped on an icy stone; she was about to fall face-first into the frozen stream.

But she felt strong arms encircle her from the side, pulling her away. Rey grabbed hold of Ren’s body as they both tumbled backwards onto the bank of the ravine. She landed on top of him as his back hit the moss-covered ground. 

For a few moments, their faces were an inch apart as they lay catching their breaths. Yet neither of them moved to get up; instead, they breathed each other in.

It felt as though time had stopped.

All of a sudden, Rey felt hot everywhere, keenly aware of his hard body under hers, his chest rising beneath her, the scent of his skin. 

Ren’s eyes were soft and searching as he reached up tentatively to brush her chestnut hair from her face. Rey let out a little gasp. 

But the next instant, the other hand he was using to steady them smashed against the rock where Rey had leaned the bottle. He roared in pain, writhing away from her, broken glass and inky liquid spilling into the moss.

“Master Ren!” She scrambled to tear a piece of cloth from anything she could find, to stop the bleeding. 

But it wasn’t just blood. His veins, then his wrist, then his entire hand began to turn black before her eyes. He thrashed and wailed in agony. Rey panicked, not knowing how to help him, so she wrenched his hand away from him and in an act of desperate instinct, kissed it and held it to her heart. She closed her eyes and felt an energy in her hands—perhaps it was the Force—and it was flowing from her into him. His screams stopped, and as she opened her eyes, the color was returning to his hand.

He looked up at her in wonder, still quaking from the pain even as it faded, hair mussed and eyes wide in disbelief.

Rey didn’t understand what happened, but she had no time to analyze it; he was still bleeding. She undid the thin scarf around her neck and began wrapping his hand tightly. Her own breathing was labored and her head was swimming, as if she had just run with lothwolves. But she summoned the presence of mind to gather up the unbroken bottles and stow them in the leather sack at her hip. 

“We have to get you back, to dress your wound properly.”

He nodded, still stunned but trying to gather himself together, clutching the crude bandage to his hand. She took his cloak and draped it around him as he stood up. He kept staring at her. She felt like it was all her fault, but she didn’t feel anger from him. Just a jumbled mess of surprise, wonder, and… something she didn't have a word for.

No time to figure it out. She turned to walk back through the bitterbirch, but when he didn’t move, she extended her arm.

_After you._

———

Rey was preparing a tincture to heal the cuts on his hand when they were back in the storeroom. Neither had said another word since returning to the Tower, but today Rey would break the silence herself.

“Master,” she asked, standing over him as he sat at the workbench, “what happened at that stream?”

He looked up at her with a slight bewilderment but didn’t answer.

“Master Ren, the stream? How it froze?” She began cleaning his hand with grain alcohol.

“Ah— uh…yes. Of course. Our experiment at the stream—Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He straightened up a bit. “The stream was to test the water for Dark Force energy. It’s how the Sith wield their power.”

“You really believe this?” Rey couldn’t help her continued skepticism; the way all the villagers spoke of the Sith was dismissive. It was a children’s story. A fairytale.

His look was serious, almost indignant. “No, I don’t believe it. I know it.”

Rey knew something too; Ren wouldn’t say that lightly. He had never lied to her.

He went on as she began dabbing his wounds with a thick ointment. His palm twitched as she worked. “If a Sith Lord is ascendant in the Wood,” he explained, “a single drop of Chloria will freeze a stream, or a pond. If the water turns warm instead, the Wood is safe. For a time.”

“Chloria? You mean, the purple liquid?”

“Yes. The kyberium— the, uh, volcanic glass—it infuses the fluid with Force energy. Powerful Force energy.” 

Rey reached for a cloth, but he laid his other, dry hand on her arm as if to interrupt her. She got goose pimples and jerked her arm away, reflexively. 

Suddenly his eyes went wide but he corrected it just as quickly, averting eye contact and turning towards a stack of scrolls.

“It’ll heal faster in the air,” he said. 

———

As the day wore on, Rey saw that Ren was looking more at ease again. His nose was buried in the ledger he used to keep stock of all his herbs and materials. She asked if he wouldn’t mind her leaving the kitchen to go and rest in her room, and he _hmmm_ -ed in assent without looking up.

Climbing up to her room at the top of the Silent Tower felt more laborious than usual today. But before long, she was nestled in her favorite chair, curling into the bronze-hued silken velvet, as warm afternoon light poured through the latticed window. She was exhausted and couldn’t keep her mind on the book in front of her. Maybe she would just close her eyes for a few minutes…

“I never thanked you.”

Rey gasped, startled, only to find Ren standing over her. She jumped out of the chair, and her book landed on the floor with a thud. He picked it up and held it to his side.

“You could have knocked,” she mumbled as she steadied herself. “…But you’re welcome.”

He shifted his weight, errantly tapping the book against his thigh.

“You did something… different. When you took my hand. Where did you learn that?”

Rey wasn’t sure if this was part of the thank-you, or if it was a scientific investigation.

“I don’t know. It was instinct. Adrenaline. Whatever you want to call it.”

“It was Force Magic, Rey.”

That was the first time he had ever spoken her name. Hearing it tugged at something inside her. The feeling she had on the banks of the stream returned, only more potent. 

He stepped closer, under the golden light streaming in from the window. Flecks of ochre, crimson, and emerald dotted the walls and moved around his skin as he drew nearer. 

“You said Force Magic had to be taught, Master. No one taught me that.”

“I was wrong.”

They were standing so close now, warming each other’s faces with their breaths. 

Rey looked up into his earnest brown eyes as they flew around her features, studying her, seeking something in her expression. Her heart was beating like a drum, becoming more and more insistent. His breathing grew uneven.

“Master Re—”

He pressed his lips to hers. The world was spinning; his lips were so soft, so _gentle,_ tasting of sea salt and figs. 

Ren dropped the book himself this time, reaching up to cradle her face with both hands, one palm bandaged tightly and hesitant on her cheek as he leaned into their kiss. She ran her hands up his chest and opened her mouth, first slipping her tongue along his, eliciting a quiet moan from him. Then their kiss grew deeper, both of them tasting and feeling each other more ardently. 

He didn’t just kiss her; he _pulled_ kisses from her. Making her want more of him, want more of his flesh, his body…

“Kylo—”

“That’s not my name.” His gaze was serious, deliberate as she watched him kneel down, slipping his hands down to her hips. He took short, sharp breaths as he reached delicately under the waist of her thin pullover and untied her leggings, rolling them down so very slowly as Rey felt herself growing wet with desire. She rested her hands on his broad shoulders, squeezing them, desperate to feel him.

“What… What’s your real n— ahh—”

His tongue was on her, opening her, lapping up her slickness and drawing it up to her apex, sending a wave of heat rippling across her body. He grasped her waist as he teased her with his lips, swirling his tongue against her, dragging every drop of her into his mouth. It made Rey shiver as he feathered her nipples with the tips of his thumbs, eliciting a drawn-out whimper and stoking the fire spreading inside her. 

She wove her fingers into his hair as she whispered _yes_ , whined for _more_ , and he groaned against her in his own obvious arousal. Her head tilted back as he licked harder, _hmmm_ -ing into her every time she let out a breathy moan.

His tongue twirled around the pearl of her sex, drawing out long currents of pleasure from her body, so searing and ever more frequent that she finally unraveled into his mouth. He held her steady as she shook, still lapping at her softly, coaxing the last cries from her throat as she quivered there in his hands.

He kissed his way up from her thighs to her navel, lacing his fingers together as he clasped his hands around the small of her back, still kneeling before her as if he were pledging his devotion to a goddess. 

She was in a warm bliss as she placed a finger lightly under his chin, urging him to stand. He did.

His lips were pink and wet, eyes full of want. His hand trembled as he brushed her cheek with his knuckles. She sunk her face into his caress and caught his fingers in her lips. He shuddered and curled both hands behind her head, gently weaving into her hair and staring at her with a look she recognized as raw, ravenous yearning. Their bodies heaved against each other.

She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t form the right words. His brow knitted ever so slightly.

Then he leaned in, pressing a long, soft kiss onto her forehead before pulling back, stifling the increasing ferocity of his breathing, hesitating. Rey reached out to stroke his cheek, asking a question in the way she thumbed over his jawline. He leaned in once more, his eyelids low, then turned away from her just before their lips could meet. As he walked out of the room, he shut the door behind him with a gentle wave of his hand. Without looking back.

She never learned his real name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-----thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [reylogarbagechute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylogarbagechute/pseuds/reylogarbagechute) and [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) for their eyes on this chapter!  
> 

A month went by and neither of them mentioned what happened that afternoon. But it changed everything about their relationship, down to their daily routine. He no longer sent messages for her to meet him anywhere; they were requests. She never denied them, but the difference was clear.

After walking out of her room the way he did, without a word, without even giving her his real name—Rey was angry. She knew he could sense it, and she could feel the shame in him. Not over what they did together, but how he left it. They were beginning to sense each other’s emotions; a confusing patchwork of trepidation, desire, inhibition, fear, longing… They resented each other, but they also wanted something from each other. So much had been left unspoken since they acted on their attraction, then backed away from it. Nothing would ever get done if they tried to sort through their feelings. 

So they worked. Most days now began in the library, where Master Ren took notes on the most ancient tomes in his collection, and Rey catalogued their supplies and their deficits according to the ledgers. The history of the Dark Side of the Force was cobbled together from varying accounts, some of which contradicted each other. There were thousands of pages that Mages had written over hundreds of years. Ren and Rey had so many texts to scour for insight and deep lore, to the point that they had to develop their own system for organizing everything by time, by Mage, by subject. The library looked positively chaotic, but they both knew where everything was at all times. Since the experiment at the stream, they had been researching the Sith in earnest and preparing for the eventual emergence of a Sith Lord from deep in the Wood Beyond. The work they did was tedious, but necessary if they were going to fight off the growing darkness. 

In the afternoons, they would forage on the border where the Plain met the Wood, Ren still asking for Rey’s hidden spots, Rey still obliging him every time. They surveyed the Outer Wood for threats, always on the lookout for the Jawa, but there hadn’t been any new reports and they never saw any traces of them.

Most evenings they would move up to his chambers, where he was training her in the fundamentals of levitation. She would practice by making various objects quake in her hand, using nothing but her mind. It was harder than Rey thought; there were a series of mental steps she was supposed to follow in order to concentrate properly on an object, and she could never quite get them straight. Ren busied himself with reading and writing, going through endless stacks of materials from the library, even sending away for certain manuscripts. He often meditated to glean what wisdom he could from the Force. They would sometimes read together by the fire, but they didn’t say much beyond what was in the immediate interest of learning and developing their strategy for how to defeat the Sith Lord.

And they would have to travel to learn more. Rey hadn’t left the village since her parents abandoned her there, but she had nearly no memory of life before she was alone. Neither she nor Ren was born nearby, that was for certain. Master Ren’s accent alone was so different from that of the villagefolk and even more from her own, which was regarded as unique by the locals for its crisp edges; vestiges of wherever Rey had spent her first five years, she imagined. She didn’t want to know where.

Leaving the Tower, leaving the village and the valley didn’t scare Rey. It was what she might learn once she left that unsettled her. So she pushed it to the back of her mind and buried herself in the work they had begun.

Their plans were coming together, and they could still work well enough together. But it too often felt like they were on opposite sides of a chasm, unable to truly collaborate because they couldn’t communicate. Something was blocked ever since the day by the stream.

Nothing could break the stalemate. Until one rainy night.

———

A storm raged outside the Silent Tower. Rain pummeled the stone, strong winds lashing water against the windows. They were reading by the fire in his chambers, each with his and her own book. Rey had a primer on the history of the Wood Beyond the World, about how its ancient roots reached all the way down to an underground lake. Kylo Ren—if that was even his real name—was reading about Sith lore; how Sith power would multiply when there was an imbalance in the life energies that held the world together. 

They had found a way to be around each other despite their impasse, if only for human company. By now, Rey figured out that there was no cook, nor a maid, and all the cleaning and meals were conjured by Force Magic that Ren had put in place long ago. Without anyone else to talk to, even though they spent nearly every day together, it was a comfort to sit with someone at night while they pursued their individual interests in companionable silence. Sometimes Ren drew ornate calligraphy. Rey tended to ferns and orchids she had cultivated from trimmings when they went foraging. He didn’t seem to mind the addition of her plants in his chambers… Or at least, she thought he didn’t. She had never technically asked for permission, and he never said anything to her about it. Of course. 

Tonight they both read by the fire that Rey had conjured herself with Force Magic. She loved the sound of its crackle. There were large, plush cushions on the floor that she used to lie as close to the hearth as possible. Ren sat upright behind her on a cherry-red chaise, one long leg crossed open, poring over the thick book in his lap. 

She was lying on her stomach with a pillow scrunched under her chin, elbows bowed out to turn pages. Rey felt a bit pink-faced and was not studying as closely as she usually might. She was feeling warm not only from the fire, but from the clove-infused Hosniyan brandy that Ren had brought up from the cellar for them to sip. He may have been impossible, frustrating, enigmatic… but he was a fine host.

An illustration caught her eye—two lovers kissing in the Wood. Something about a legend. Her concentration level wasn’t all that high, owing to the brandy. She thought back to the day again, in her room, when she and Ren kissed and he knelt down… and then her mood turned from content to agitated; her mind turning over everything again. Here she was, high in a Mage’s Tower at twenty, unable to get him to talk to her, barely able to sort through her own thoughts about… _that_ day… yet, she was still drawn to him. 

It was silly. 

It was maddening.

“Master Ren?” She would punctuate his precious silence if she very well pleased.

“Hmm.” 

Rey couldn’t see him from where she lay, but she just _knew_ he hadn’t looked up from his reading.

“Why am I here? After being passed over for two years?” She was feeling restless.

“The Force decides these things. Not me.” Rolling thunder sounded from far in the distance.

Rey rolled her eyes. How perfect for a man who never spoke, to answer a question without really answering. It was almost funny.

“Thanks for that.” She felt a bit like taunting him but wouldn’t go too far.

“You’re welcome.” 

Rey huffed, entertained. She took a swig of her brandy.

“If we’re asking questions,” he went on, “shouldn’t I go next?”

_Well, well. He enters the arena._

“Certainly, Master.”

“How did you learn how to read?”

“Bartering. And a bit of thievery, highway robbery, murder in fact; I was once—”

“Alright. Bartering, then. Thanks for that.”

_Ahh, he returns the toss._

Rey half hoped for their exchange to continue, but Ren resumed his customary silence. So she returned to her book and her brandy as the rainstorm grew louder.

The reading was a bit dry. She started flipping through the pages at random. Something she read made her laugh; some turn of phrase by an old Mage with an odd way of composing his sentences backwards. As she chuffed, she felt Ren’s attention wander from the text in front of him. 

Rey took another drink from her glass, still laughing. She couldn’t help it. Her body was loose and comfortable, sprawled out across her small mountain of pillows as she guffawed; and then she heard Ren’s book slam shut.

She turned around and realized his eyes were on her bottom as it bounced from her chuckling. It only made her laugh more. This whole situation, _how ridiculous,_ she thought.

“What’s so funny?” His voice was relaxed, easy; he had been sipping too much of his brandy, too.

“I can’t… I can’t explain…” She was now laughing so much she couldn’t string together a sentence to save her life.

He breathed out a low chuckle, a sound Rey would have thought against his very nature when they first met. But there it was, laughter from Kylo Ren, at nothing but the sound of her own.

“Try me.”

“I can’t… Ahh hahahah, I can’t…”

Hearing him laugh and ask her to explain was even funnier. If he asked her again, she’d have to stick her head out the window into the rain to cool off.

He must have sensed her on the edge, because he climbed down beside her onto the pile of pillows, a mischievous look in his eyes. With flushed cheeks and a wry grin, he picked up her glass and said, “I want whatever you’re having.”

That was it, she laughed so hard, it forced tears down her cheeks. How stupid, his little joke, when they were drinking the same thing, how—

He vaulted his body onto hers, his pelvis against her rear. She squealed with delight and more laughter. He leaned down to breathe something clever against her neck, but he couldn’t because he was unable to stop himself laughing, too; his rich baritone bellowing out of his chest. They howled together at absolutely nothing. They were a riot in a room with a roaring fire. 

She could feel her belly aching from the laughter, but it slowed with the growing realization that their bodies were pressed against each other. A call back to another time when things felt like they were opening up with possibility and, if they were honest, danger. But the kind of danger your heart couldn't resist; the danger of losing yourself to someone else.

Rey wriggled underneath him, turning her body to face him, still smiling. Ren’s breathing was just as strong as when he was laughing, but he drew a sharp intake of breath when their eyes met. His jaw twitched around like he was chewing on his own tongue, and she suddenly forgot what was so funny in the first place. 

Then it happened. Lightning struck outside, illuminating everything within the Tower. A flash of white-hot light tore through the room, then disappeared in an instant. And in that split second, their lips met with a ferocity to match the storm. 

They held each other through the thunder, mouths locked together, each of them unwilling to break away. 

Rey wanted to forget everything that had happened. She wanted him, wanted to be with him. She didn’t care how it began, what people would think, why she couldn’t admit it sooner. She wanted to tell him. But she couldn’t form the words. 

As soon as she perceived her own feelings, he pulled away from her. His stare was heartbreaking; full of longing but tormented by fear.

_Master Ren, holding back, yet again._

Ren sat up, grabbing his brandy and taking a swig as the light left his eyes. Then he stood, looming over her like a tower casting its shadow over a garden.

Rey’s heart sank. A wave of hurt washed over her, then a tremor of anger rumbled through her. She scrambled up and looked him square in the eye. 

“I’ve found some old books,” she barked.

He said nothing.

“I read about a pirate.” 

He didn’t respond, but stared right back at her.

“Named Han Solo.”

His body went rigid; his eyes filled with dread.

“He married a princess.”

Ren was motionless.

“And they left their baby in the care of a Mage.”

The rain started coming down in sheets, almost as loud as the thunder.

He calmly leaned forward, lips to her ear, but spoke in a rage-filled whisper. 

“Never… speak of that… again.”

Then he flew out of the room, and didn’t return for a week.

———

While he was gone, half the time she hated him. The other half of the time, her heart ached for him.

When he came home, she could feel his presence before he even entered the Tower. 

He climbed straight up to her room, before the sun rose, and swung the door open without stepping inside.

His voice was hushed and measured.

“We will continue our work.”

A few black moments passed before she answered.

“We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-----thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [reylogarbagechute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylogarbagechute/pseuds/reylogarbagechute) and [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) for their eyes on this chapter!  
> 

Half a year into their strained arrangement, they continued the rituals of daily life through a haze of quiet and hurt. 

They were so deep into their study of the Sith that they hardly had to speak anymore. By now, they practically knew each other’s thoughts— at least the ones about their work. Not the ones they were keeping locked away. Whatever might have been building between them was broken now. Rey didn’t know how to fix this.

There was no law that prevented a Master and Apprentice from forming an attachment; Apprentices were known to have dalliances with their Masters from time to time, and a few were even said to have taken them as husbands. It wasn’t a breach of custom that kept them from being together, it was just… them.

Rey knew she had wounded him. Her instinct was to heal the wound, even though she didn’t know how; and yet, it had crossed her mind more than once to _leave_ the Tower. It was only ever a fleeting thought, but it came at the oddest of times; when he stood close to her, when she would forget for a moment how frustrating he was, and those feelings of warmth and wanting returned. Her mind would flit away to the little home she left behind, her simple hut on the outskirts of Takoszdana. She’d suddenly have a vision of herself wild and free again, with no one who cared where she was, or even _who_ she was. Her life was simpler then. 

But she couldn’t leave. Something inside her had begun to take root in the Tower.

She felt a mixture of constant, muted agitation and sadness, day in, day out. There were nights when she would lie awake in her bed, staring at the heavy door, thinking about _him;_ if he was still awake, if he was still reading… if he was thinking of her, perhaps. When she began to dwell too long on what had happened or why, she tried to squeeze her eyes shut and fall asleep. 

The Silent Tower was aptly named; a lonely and melancholy place, its spire two hundred feet tall. Her room was near the top of the Tower, and Rey preferred to use the wide spiral ramp that swirled along the interior edge of the structure rather any of the staircases. Some days, she would stand for an hour in the sunlight that shone through the Tower windows, watching how it played at long shapes throughout the day, as it moved across the smooth incline of the stones under her feet. Once, she lost track of time and realized she had spent an entire afternoon just staring out at the countryside from near the top of the Tower, watching the mist roll in and blanket everything but the tallest treetops. That night, she burned twelve candles catching up on ledgers. 

They hadn’t been going out as much since the rainy season began. She’d hardly seen another soul for weeks and Kylo Ren was speaking to her as little as possible. They still spent their working hours together, and he was still instructing her, but his economy with words was more extreme than ever. She was reluctant to ask questions and often had to guess at the details by carefully watching his face. Sometimes that was difficult for her—painful to concentrate on his features. He had been avoiding eye contact, since the day at the stream. Since their afternoon in her room, in the warm jewel-toned light. More than ever, since that night by the fire. 

———

Rey was in Master Ren's chambers one evening as the light left the sky, leaning against one of the giant stone pillars and observing how he lifted objects with his mind. He had described to her, many times in the past, what it felt like; how he emptied his thoughts and his only focus was the shape of the object, the contours of its surfaces, its color and weight. If he lifted a stone, he was the stone. If he caught a bird in midair, he was the bird. 

That evening, Ren was levitating books and geodes and vessels into the air, sitting with his eyes closed on the stone floor of his main room, his cloak pooling around him. 

She spied a feather on his large desk, and thought, what was the harm in trying for herself? It was so small; he probably wouldn’t even notice.

Rey focused her mind on the feather, emptying out all the background noise a person has cluttering up their head at any given time. She imagined its spine, a hollow and milky-translucent white. She tried to visualize every blue-black string of down originating from the spine, how each one had tiny, fuzzy edges you had to squint to see. She thought of the bird it must have come from— a large creature, for a feather this long; its wingspan must be a few feet. It might be a bird of prey, diving into the Plain to capture a mouse or—

Suddenly, a great raven appeared in the air, flapping wildly and swooping down from the vaulted ceiling, skimming just above their heads. 

Kylo Ren’s eyes flicked open and all the objects he had been levitating crashed down to the floor. The geode shattered into a hundred shards of crystal and rock fragments.

His face wasn’t hard to read then; he was shocked. He stood up and reached in the direction of a window, forcing it open with his magic from across the room, and after a few chaotic moments, the bird found its way out of the Tower.

Rey was stunned… mortified… and dreading what would come next.

“What— How did you learn how to do that?” His eyes were wide and his brows were scrunched in disbelief. 

“I… I don’t know, I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Master. I just wanted to lift the feather—”

“Who gave you permission to lift anything?” He never raised his voice but his anger was simmering and ominous.

She wanted to ask if he could do the same; if the first time he tried lifting a stone, he made a volcano erupt. But she held her tongue.

He looked at her as if he could read her thoughts down to the word. 

“Get out. Just get out.” His words stung Rey, perhaps because they seemed so different from what an angry reaction ought to be. He was quiet. She didn’t understand his emotions. She didn’t know if he had any after all, other than his sense of superiority and—

“I’m not superior, but I _am_ your Master. That’s how this works. Whether we like it or not.” 

He _could_ read her thoughts. 

“Just leave, Rey… Please…”

A knot formed in her stomach. She ran out and fled to her chambers.

———

What had she done? Rey paced in her room, agonizing over what happened. She didn’t know if she was more angry with him or with herself.

She grabbed her cloak from where it lay on the bed and sank into the massive armchair, curling into the green fabric of the cloak… The cloak he gave her.

She certainly hadn’t meant to conjure a bird out of thin air. But she also hadn’t expected to have her thoughts read. And her thoughts… They weren’t deliberately unkind to him, yet she felt remorseful. Did she hurt him… again? Merely with some fleeting inner sarcasm? 

The turmoil she felt kept her from sitting still. She went to draw a bath, turning the spigot on a giant barrel of water and using the Force to heat it. She wanted it scalding. She wanted the heat to erase what had just happened, to burn it from her mind. 

Rifling through the apothecary cabinet was her next step. She began mixing powders and oils to create an aromatic concoction to pour into the bathtub. A heady, resinous scent filled the room. Soon, the tub was full of steaming water and voluminous, fluffy clouds from the impromptu bubble bath, dotted with tiny yellow petals from the amilynthus flowers she kept nearby. She flicked a wrist in the air, lighting dozens of candles scattered around the washroom, and wriggled out of her shift as she entered the tub slowly. The water was dangerously hot.

Once in, her muscles started to relax. Her bun kept most of her hair dry, but she was in deep with the water up to her neck. That’s how she wanted it; she wanted to disappear, really. 

_That’s how this works. Whether we like it or not._

Why had he said _we_ , instead of _you_? How could he read her exact thoughts anyway? She’d never heard of this type of Force Magic before. Yes, they could anticipate each other’s needs when they were working; certainly that must develop between a master and apprentice, but this? She sensed that he was wounded… or afraid… _His emotions are a jumble._ His emotions? No, _my emotions_ , she thought. 

What a mess.

_Stop thinking_. Turning it over in her mind was the last thing she wanted to do. She just wanted to soak in the water and forget who she was, who _he_ was.

So, of course, she heard footsteps. 

_Him_. Just outside her chambers. The washroom door was open just by a crack, and through it, she watched him enter her bedroom. He was clearly not expecting to walk in while she was indisposed, and seemed to freeze at the realization.

What was he doing there anyway? Wasn’t he furious? 

Rey had never been particularly shy. And they had a history, after all. She composed herself and prepared to reach for a bathing towel when he finally spoke from the other room.

“ _Don’t_ get up.”

She rolled her eyes at how he was still reading her thoughts. But his voice was quiet, disarming.

“I just came to… apologize. For snapping at you.” He sounded like he was breathing heavily. _Out of nervousness?_

She felt something wash over her, a queer feeling, like a fever. 

Rey realized she couldn’t tell if she was sensing him, or the other way around. That’s when she realized it— he heard her thoughts; she felt his emotions. Sometimes. Partially. _They were so loud, so… strong._

“I’ll go now, I didn’t mean to disturb you…”

He was lying, for the first time since she met him. He did mean to disturb her.

“Stay.” The word seemed to escape her mouth on its own. Her eyes widened at what she said. 

There was silence again.

“You can stay… if you want to… talk,” she heard herself say. “I don’t mind.” 

He waited several seconds before replying, almost in a whisper, “I want to stay.”

She considered the hot bath, the feeling building in her body… and then she knew her mind. 

“You can come in here. There’s a bench.” 

After a few moments he walked slowly towards the door, lingering before asking, “Are you sure?”

She was sure. She thought it loud and clear, and he heard her. The door began to creak open.

He walked in and gasped softly at the sight of her. She had been covered in bubbles, but they were dissipating now. Loose hairs that didn’t make it into her bun stuck to her neck from the water and humidity. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat and her face had a slight sheen. She was keenly aware of how he looked at her. And she craved it. She followed the angles of his imposing form with her eyes, and the feeling of heat pooling in her belly made the scalding bathwater seem tepid by comparison. 

Kylo Ren was, on this night, not dressed all in black. He came without his cloak, standing before her in fitted brown trousers and a tunic the color of pine needles with the sleeves rolled up, untied at the top. It revealed a swath of his smooth, broad chest, which was beginning to bead up a little from the warmth and moisture in the room. He let go of the door frame and exhaled, mouth parted.

“I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you.” He inched into the washroom just a bit more.

Rey looked him up and down. He was… he was gorgeous. Her chest fluttered as she thought it.

He must have heard that thought too, as he slowly walked further in, his cheeks turning pink as he stopped at the edge the tub.

“I shouldn’t have tried to move the feather. Without your guidance—”

“You should’ve. You’re talented, you’re… special.” One of his hands twitched as it hung down his side.

Her heart was the true guide now, and she followed it. She lifted an arm out of the water and reached for his hand, bubbles still surrounding her fingers as they interlocked with his. He shuddered from the touch. 

Rey impulsively stood up, splashing a little water out of the tub in her haste. He swallowed audibly, his eyes sliding up and down her body, and she brought his hand up to her heart. 

The hand she healed. 

Her heart was pounding. She thought it might break out of her chest. 

His expression was full of yearning. He started to make a sound, maybe a word, but she pulled him towards her by the tunic with both hands, until their lips were nearly touching, their breaths mingling and ragged. She saw the oaken-honey color of his eyes darken as his pupils grew large and needful. Rey softly pressed her lips against his and he choked out a quiet note from the back of his throat. Then he sank into her mouth with his tongue, reaching around her wet body to hold her across her back, clutching her against him, soaking his clothes.

The fever she felt was now a fire and she could sense the intensity of his feelings for her. This was not their plan. But it was now their desire. 

She pulled away to look fixedly into his eyes.

“I want this,” she breathed. “I want you.”

“You have me,” he said, thickly.

She cupped his face with her hands and and seized his mouth again.

He let out a low, quiet, carnal whine and hugged her tighter.

Then he slipped his right hand forward, and before she could step out of the bath, slid it toward her thighs. He reached slowly between her legs with one arm, behind her back with the other, tilting her body into his embrace as he carried her out into the bedroom. Fragrant bathwater dripped onto the stone floor.

She reclined as he held her against his chest, but half her weight was on his arm, and she wasn’t just slick from the bath. She began clenching against him, unable to wait for the rest of his body. His breath hitched as he watched her, carrying her past the bed.

He leaned down to set her into the velvet chair, then hurriedly yanked off his shirt as she reached to unbutton his pants. He peeled each leg out and stood before her, chest heaving, as she drank in his hulking, powerful form. Then, he climbed in with her, settling over her. He lifted one of her legs into the air as she backed up into the seat sideways and reached for him, dangling her other leg over the arm of the chair. His gaze was piercing as he hovered above her.

Her hands skimmed down his abdomen, reaching down to squeeze his immense thighs— a request. 

“Master Ren, I don’t know your—”

“My name is Ben,” he murmured, leaning down to sweep his mouth along her collarbone, her breasts. “Call me Ben.”

 _Ben._

His breath was hot against her and he smelled of saltwater and spices. She felt her body lift up wherever he dragged his lips along her skin, as if they were magnets. Her fingers wove through his thick black hair. She gently pulled his head up towards hers. 

Rey leaned in, fingers tracing the curve of his face, and whispered his name against his lips.

“ _Ben_ …” 

They shared a kiss, softer than before; impossibly tender and sweet. But as the moments passed, their breathing grew unsteady.

Then, finally, as she ached for him, as his lips stayed near hers, he began to press into her body.

The sensation of him so hard entering her, the fullness, made Rey’s eyes flutter and her head tilt back as she gasped his name again. 

“ _Ben_ …” 

He pushed further, his length and width stretching her walls, creating an intense, perfect pleasure from the pressure. 

“ _Ben, I_ …”

She took him in all the way, breath catching as he bottomed out. He tensed when he filled her, burying his head in her neck, waiting for a moment before pulling out a little, then sinking into her again and again, moaning.

Her back arched forward into his movements, as each time he plunged into her sent shudders through her core. She curled her leg around him, and he leaned up as he reached for her waist, his hand spanning around half her body.

She could feel a great, feral energy mounting inside her, and him, as they began to rock together— their hips moving in tandem, eyes fixed on each other. He braced against the chair with one arm and slid his other hand down to her hip, grasping her against him, causing each push to feel deeper, tighter as he groaned. The sound of his voice made her more sensitive everywhere, and she whined as the pleasure and tension built inside.

Soon they were panting together, every thrust growing stronger, faster. He leaned down to bring his mouth back to hers, but their lips slanted together without moving, just touching, as their breathing and their bodies were driving forward towards climax. All their caresses, all their rolling and riding against each other became frantic as both their voices moaned louder, hungry and animalic… 

They hurtled towards orgasm together, arms wound around each other through jolts and long cries as they climaxed, the waves reverberating through their bodies.

She shook from the intensity long after its peak. He kissed her neck and jawline, despite being out of breath from release. 

Rey was still quaking when she finally got the words out. 

“Ben, I… _I love you_.”

His fiery eyes tore through her, straight to her soul. 

“When I heard your mind think that for the first time… I thought I’d die of pain,” he said through his breathlessness, “until you said it aloud.” 

She swept a strand of damp hair off of his forehead. He reached for her hand, pressing his lips to her palm, then went on. 

“I’ve been in love with you for so long. I don’t ever want you to leave me… Don’t leave.” He kissed each of her fingers. “Be with me. Stay with me.”

“I’m staying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Silent Tower's interior helical corridor or "spiral ramp" is inspired by the [Rundetaarn](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:2018_-_Rundet%C3%A5rn_-_interior.jpg) in Copenhagen, Denmark.
> 
> \-----thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first chapter off anonymous. Thank you for reading! Just wanted to include a little note that all previous chapters (1-5) now have graphics, in case you want to flip back and check them out. (they're at the top of each chapter.) 
> 
> Thanks to the excellent [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) for her eyes on this.
> 
> Hope everyone reading this is safe and healthy.  
> 

It was a rare clear night in the middle of the rainy season. The moon was nearly full and approaching the middle of the sky, casting its cool light through the lattice window. Most of the candles were down to a dim glow as their flames sank further into thick wells of wax. 

After spending a breathless minute in the chair, sharing a quiet, perhaps nervous laugh about the less than ideal state of its fine upholstery, Rey motioned for them to migrate into bed so they could stretch out. 

He never stopped staring at her, finding places he wanted to touch and tease. It made her giggle when he plucked yellow amilynthus petals out of her hair at the nape of her neck; he even peeled a few of them off of her back and shoulders. And his _smile_ . . . It was like seeing the sun for the first time. The self-control, that stiff manner of his must be so much work for him, she thought. There was someone underneath the mask— _Ben_ —who could be tender; yielding. She felt like a great weight had been lifted from their world. Anything was possible now.

Rey had never loved anyone before. She had spent many a rowdy night at the local tavern, certainly. And she had encountered her fair share of handsome strangers as they passed through the village en route to Hosniya, Coruszka . . . She even spent one exhausting night with a mysterious bearded man from Stewjon. But she seldom hung around long enough to see anyone’s face in the morning.

She had fun. She was wild and she did what she wanted—singing and swaying with the tavern regulars, flagons of mead sloshing onto the oaken bar top; meeting boy after boy from the local chandler’s workshop in a hollowed out tree trunk as a young girl, asking to see their “wicks.” She could remember how her laughter embarrassed one boy so much that he tattled to the ghastly Orphan Warden, Unkar Płutt, about her secret hiding place. It wasn’t her fault; it was just _such_ an odd wick! But, Płutt cut her meals down to an eighth portion per day for a week . . . and she simply found another, better tree, further past the edge of the Plain.

But love? Love was for other people. People with families, homes. Love meant asking herself the worst question about her parents. She wouldn’t even think it.

Yet here she was, unable to resist this man she’d resented at first. A man who uprooted her from the little house she had built. A silent, enigmatic man. A Mage.

She had sensed, as far back as that day at the stream, that there was a connection between them; a thread that she wanted to follow, instinctively. She nearly told him, before doubting herself; before he abruptly left her room. Something had kept him from staying with her that day, from taking it further—and it was her. He’d read her hesitation like a book. And it was enough to drive him away. Or, it had been.

Now, the words she never said before poured out of her with certainty. She loved him. He broke the dam she had built over a lifetime. This man with secrets, with hidden parts of his personality, with power and steadfastness and vulnerability, all swirled into a towering, silent form. This man with a secret name. 

“ _Ben_ ,” she whispered, curled on her side while he lay behind her playing with her hair, “why are you called Kylo Ren?”

He sighed softly and kissed the back of her neck before answering. 

“A Force Mage is given a name by their Master. During training.” He kept twirling her soft brown locks, which had long ago fallen out of their topknot.

“Why would you need a new name?” Her voice was gentle, careful.

“You’re supposed to let go of the past.” 

Rey knew there were things in his past he’d rather forget. She thought back to when she revealed what she’d learned about him, thought about his reaction—his tormented eyes, his bottled rage, his disappearance from the Tower—and a pang of regret twisted in her chest.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, still nuzzling behind her. 

“I know you felt guilty,” he said, “when I . . . left.” His thumb moved back and forth softly under her ribcage. “You were curious about me. Suspicious, perhaps. I gave you reason to be, after that day at the stream—”

“I wasn’t suspicious, I was—”

“My behavior was cowardly. Walking out on you . . . afterward. If anyone should feel guilty,” he paused, huffing, “it’s me.”

“But I did, I _do_ feel badly, for the way I used what I learned . . . to hurt you.” She felt her face go warm with remorse.

“Any tool can also be a weapon. Knowledge is no different.” He paused, pulling her closer to him. “But thank you. For caring about me.”

They were talking— _really_ talking—more than they ever had in six months. 

“How long? You said . . . you said you’ve loved me for so long.” She turned to face him, chest fluttering from the directness and the vulnerability passing between them. “How long?” 

He looked away for a moment, as if to recall a vivid memory.

“Since the stream. No . . . earlier. Maybe the night I first knocked on your door. Before I knocked.” His eyes fixed on hers. “Maybe always.”

“ _Always_ . . .” she echoed in a whisper, taking it in.

“I knew you didn’t. At first. But then I sensed something . . . _growing_ inside you—something building between us—and I couldn’t bear it. Knowing you couldn’t decide. If you wanted me.”

“I have decided.” She placed a hand upon his cheek. He leaned in to press his lips to her forehead.

“I know.”

Those two words wrapped around Rey’s heart like a blanket of relief and wholeness, but they also reminded her of something else between them; something unusual.

“If you can read my thoughts”—

“I can’t all the time”—

“But just now you did, when you said you knew how I felt about you . . .”

“ . . . Because you let me.”

She thought back to the stream when they tumbled too close, thought back to the night they were drunk on Hosniyan brandy . . . and realized that she was wide open. Her attraction to him must have come through so clearly, just as her hesitation and fear did.

And she had been sensing his emotions all this time, how he stifled them, how his affection for her was yet another secret—perhaps his biggest secret—that required constant vigilance. It had made her so angry when he backed away from their encounters; she knew how much he wanted her; she could feel it.

They had both been trying to keep their feelings hidden, but sometimes, it all threatened to spill out. And it scared them both. It was why they hadn’t trusted each other—or themselves. 

Until now.

He took a risk, coming up to her room. And so did she, giving him another chance. 

It changed everything.

“Rey, you’ve been reading _my_ mind since the day we met. Since I entered your home.”

It seemed obvious, all of a sudden. He spoke so little to her at the beginning—almost never, really. Yet she often knew what he wanted from her. _Follow me. After you._ She might not be able to predict every move he’d make, or read every notion he had . . . but when it came to _her_ , she was attuned to his thoughts and feelings.

“I knew we were starting to sense each other’s emotions,” she said, propping her head up on her hand, “but it was more powerful than I realized. And yet I can’t tell”—

“Everything I’m thinking?” He _would_ choose that moment to finish her thought, and she meant to tease him about it.

But he smiled before she could open her mouth. The lines that formed around his warm eyes made them even more beautiful. 

“Empathic abilities are not an exact science,” he explained. “And they’re not always reliable. Force Mages . . . Some have highly developed psychic talents, honed after years of training with their Masters. But you?” He brushed his fingers across her cheek, thumb coming to rest upon her temple. “You came to me with the strongest raw ability I’ve ever seen.” 

“And you were trained in this kind of Force Magic?” The moment she said it, she regretted bringing up his past again. But she didn’t sense pain from him; instead, there was an opening up, a willingness to share with her. 

“I felt a presence when I was a young boy. An . . . awakening.” He had a faraway look about him. “I tried to tell my parents about it. They thought I was addled. Not sane. So they sent me away.”

_The princess and the pirate_ , Rey remembered. They left their boy with a Mage.

“The Mage they sent me to . . . rejected me. He wasn’t cruel, but he lived in fear of a prophecy. And when I came to him, when I told him about the awakening, how I felt this . . . this _presence_ somewhere in the world—he became convinced that I was the bad omen he had been dreading. So he sent me across the ocean to live with another Mage. Who . . . _was_ cruel.”

“How old were you?” Rey feared the answer.

“Ten.”

“Oh, Ben . . .” She gathered him as closely to her as she could, kissing his hair, clutching his back, moving her palms across it; perhaps if she touched him everywhere, the pain she felt deep inside him would disappear. She knew the hollow ache of being abandoned. Boys began their Mage training earlier, at least in this part the world, but Rey had never heard of such a young child being sent from his home to live with a stranger. Not when they had real parents of their own.

“It’s alright . . . I know what it’s done to me. I’m not the easiest man. But”—

“You’re wonderful,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t change a hair on your head.”

His eyes began to look glossy but his lips were on hers before she ever saw a tear fall. He laced his fingers into her hair and kissed her; long and slow and indulgent. She had never been kissed like that before, not until Ben. They had just shared each other's bodies, but Rey could feel the familiar currents of desire welling up inside her again. 

She let her fingers feather down his back, dragging them forward to graze the trail of hair that led down from his navel. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and pulled his lips away from hers to look at her with heavy eyelids. Then, he leaned gently forward, turning her onto her back, caging her in with his arms, pressed into her side. She could feel him nearly ready for her again, hard against her hip. He kissed her, this time softer than before, and she brought her arms up around his neck, asking for more. Then, he leaned back just a little, regarding her, before weaving his fingers back into her hair.

“I want to show you something,” Ben said, just as it seemed that they would easily fall back into a slower, less urgent version of what they had done not long ago. Rey half-wondered, knowing him, if he had suddenly remembered something to do with an ancient scroll or an herb mixture . . . She, however, didn’t want to leave the bed.

“Can it . . . wait?” She rolled her hips, intent on staying tangled up with him in the moonlight.

“It could,” he said, “but then you’d miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle . . .” 

His lips curled up as he rose to gather a few blankets folded at the foot of the bed. She smiled and rolled her eyes at the sight of him, naked and half hard as he shook the bed linens out of their neat piles.

He handed her a soft woolen quilt. She couldn’t believe this man would drag her out of bed in the middle of the night. Especially after kissing her the way he just did . . . But, before she could protest again, he reached out for her hand. His smile had her on her feet without another thought.

Ben led the way in the dark, blankets draped around them both, as he started up the steps just past her room. She thought the highest levels of the Tower had been sealed off years ago due to a fire. Instead, they approached a stone wall and Ben closed his eyes, reaching out with his hand towards the crude masonry and turning his fist like he was opening a doorknob. 

And Rey watched as the bricks transformed into a solid, heavy door that opened before them, leading to another set of steps painted with iridescent blue scrollwork, illuminated from above by a sliver of moonlight.

He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows as if to challenge her to turn back now. Rey couldn’t help but grin. Wherever he was taking her, it must be magical.

They climbed the stairs, chasing the icy moonbeams that grew just a little brighter as they approached the final step. There was a trap-door above them. Ben forced it open. Rey couldn’t tell what was on the other side, apart from cool air. They could be among the stars, for all she knew. 

He extended his hand.

_After you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-----thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [no_big_deal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_big_deal/pseuds/no_big_deal) and [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) for taking a look at this chapter!  
> 

Rey took his hand. The trap door was too high up to climb through on her own, and the stonework was old and smoothed over; there was nothing to grip, even for someone used to scaling trees in the darkness of the Wood. So, Ben hunched down low enough to boost her over his shoulders. 

She struggled to keep the quilt draped around her, fingers clutching its bunched-up corners in front of her neck, and giggled as Ben pushed her rear up toward the opening. She knew he was smiling without having to look down at him. Grabbing onto the trap door’s frame with her free hand, she swung her other elbow up and hoisted herself over the edge, clambering onto the roof.

And when she looked up, the sky was glittering with starlight. All the recent rains had left the air crisp and cloudless, and each point of light twinkled and flickered against the deep black fabric of the heavens.

Rey found herself looking out at the whole countryside blanketed by night—peering past the muted amber glow of the village to other tiny hamlets across the valley, seeing where the Darkling Plain met the blackness of the Wood Beyond the World, with groves and fields and little smoking chimneys stippling the landscape. 

Ben pulled himself up to the roof to join her.

“I’ve never been up here. It feels like we’re so much higher than the Tower,” she said, leaning against his arm. She shivered a little and he opened his blanket to wrap her up in a double layer with him. 

“We are. Much higher.”

Rey looked around them and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except . . .

The roof wasn’t made of stone. It was the forest floor under her bare feet, covered with mosses and edged with ferns; soft and alive. Had she been so dazzled by the view upon surfacing that she didn’t stop to notice what was underfoot? 

“The Tower is enchanted.” She shook her head as she said it, incredulous. 

“It’s more than enchanted. It’s part of the Wood.” 

Surely, this must be a mystery beyond Rey’s knowledge of the Wood Beyond the World; a story that would stretch her understanding of the Force. But Ben surprised her with his explanation. 

“No one knows how the Silent Tower and the Wood Beyond were separated. Mages have been studying it for millennia.” He looked almost nonchalant, like there was no use trying. “But this isn’t all I wanted to show you.”

“There’s . . . more? We’re standing on a magical forest floor in the middle of the sky. What could poss—”

He pointed at the moon.

Rey spied a streak of light shooting through the sky, then another, and another . . . and soon, she was watching a kaleidoscopic star shower move across the heavens. As each tiny flare crossed the face of the moon, its color changed from white to brilliant blue, into a pale orange as it passed the moon’s glow, and then to ruby red the further it fell. _It’s beautiful._

_You’re beautiful._

Ben was looking at her, not the moon. His eyes shone in the starlight as she turned to face him—then he shut them for a moment, concentrating. As he un-furrowed his brow, Rey saw a dozen little fires appear, encircling them on the rooftop. Warmed by firelight, they stood beneath a star shower that changed colors like the jewel-toned panes of Rey’s window, surrounded by clover and ferns soft as silk. 

She let her blanket drop to the ground. Then, as his eyes wandered down her form, Rey reached into a deep well, someplace still and quiet inside her heart. She focused all her energy into pulling up the moss and clover into the shape of a low mound just behind Ben, wide enough and angled _just so_ for him to lie back against it. She placed a hand on his chest and he reclined into the clover, while she climbed onto his lap to straddle him and saw his body twitch in anticipation as she drew near.

“Rey, your power . . .”

“ _Shhh_ . . .”

Rey’s heartbeat hastened as she settled over him, leaning forward. His length went hard as a rock underneath her, and she felt a familiar, urgent warmth pooling in her center.

She cupped his jaw on either side with her palms, admiring the cut of his cheekbones framed by waves of black hair. His eyes followed hers until he tilted up to kiss her brow, his mouth lingering there, with a hot puff of air from his nose on her hairline and the pressure of his chest swelling against hers.

“I finally found you,” he said quietly.

She pulled away to look him in the eye, but she heard his meaning in the same way she sensed his feelings. 

“The presence? It was—”

“You—”

“—But an awakening, that feeling of something more—” 

“Just you . . .” He grazed her cheek with his knuckles, ever so lightly. His eyelids were low and he canted forward, brushing her neck with soft lips, before echoing in a whisper, “Just you.”

Her chest suddenly felt full and wide and her core lit up like a candle.

He circled her waist with his hands, holding her gently as she positioned herself to slide onto him. Both of them held their breaths as she slowly sank down to surround him, taking him inside. They exhaled together and it seemed to set something powerful into motion.

He squeezed her tighter, bucking up into her.

She moaned at how far he jutted inside her. 

Their bodies began to move together, eyes transfixed on each other . . . and as they made love, skylilies began blooming all around, unfurling their silver petals in the moonlight. Delicate, spindly Midichloriae mushrooms sprouted up from the ground into a circle that surrounded them. The shooting stars began racing faster across the sky, multiplying by the hundreds.

Ben’s hands were everywhere; spanning the small of her back, then running from her spine up to her neck, threading his fingers through her hair. He kissed along her collarbone while she gazed up at the sky, breathing in the night air and rolling her hips against him. 

Their strange bond seemed to amplify each sensation. Every tingle that chased down her legs would end at her toes and send back another ripple of heat to fan the flame deep in her belly.

“Rey, _Rey_ . . .” His voice was thick and low, chest heaving, back arching as he chased her tempo. He brought his mouth to her nipples, licking and sucking one after the other, soft but insistent lips brushing across her breasts. She let out long, fragmented sighs each time he puffed warm air onto the places his tongue had left wet.

Her fingers tangled into his hair as they rocked together. She leaned in to kiss him, resting her forehead on his, feeling his nose next to hers as his breath was hot on her chin. He began grunting and pushing up—stronger, faster, with every undulation of her hips, dragging his hands down her back, pressing her closer—and Rey felt a wire go taut inside her. 

She finally gripped his shoulders as she felt her center begin to throb. 

“ _Ben_ . . . ” she breathed, “I'm—I need—”

He drew a sharp breath and gave her a reverent look before burying his face into the side of her neck and letting out a low moan, clutching every inch of her against him with fingers tensed into her skin, thrusting up into her harder as she whined longer, higher, needier. 

Rey raced toward climax, crying out into the night sky as the heat overcame her, as the wire snapped, as her body pulsed and shook and contracted around him. 

Ben followed her, breath hitching just before he came, jerking as he spilled into her, groaning louder with each great wave of release—then going still.

He held her tight. They were both trembling but frozen in place, so overcome by the magic of their love-making that they dared not move a muscle. The skylilies that had surrounded them were releasing their indolent perfume into the air, and Rey and Ben were bathed in the glimmer of a thousand stars falling from the heavens as they began to catch their breath.

A tiny seedling shot out of the ground next to them, with two delicate golden leaves—an uneti tree, powerful with Force energy and unseen for generations—beginning its life.

They were silent afterward, lying in the clover, warmed by the fires as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

———

The morning light was just starting to hint at daytime over the landscape. Rey first awoke with the faint awareness of being outside. A hazy, melting kind of bliss set in as it dawned on her—she was waking up next to Ben.

She snuggled into his chest and pulled the blanket up over her head, pretending to hide. He was awake; she could sense it. His chest puffed up and down, lifting her a bit as he chuckled softly.

“Hmm. I guess my Lady disappeared.” His voice was hoarse and low from sleeping. Rey had come to love his bad jokes. She grinned underneath the blanket and bit his nipple lightly. 

“Hey!” he protested.

She poked her head out from the blanket, popped up, and pecked him on the mouth, laughing at her little victory.

“Your Lady’s back,” she announced.

“And hungry, apparently.” Rey cackled then, and he laughed softly, squeezing her against him. 

“Well then,” she said, “perhaps we can order breakfast up here. It _is_ enchanted after all, isn’t there some sort of Force Magic that can . . . ” She waved a hand around indiscriminately at the greenery surrounding them. “ . . .You know?”

Ben huffed in amusement. He waved his hands around, mimicking her, and play-acted a look of exaggerated surprise on his face. Then he gathered her back into his embrace.

“Nothing happened.” He shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to go out for a real breakfast.”

She nodded and smiled, before even processing what he’d said.

Did he mean . . . _the Tavern??_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-----thanks for reading! come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben head into Takoszdana Village. Their visit to the Tavern doesn't go exactly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're a subscriber, thanks for waiting nearly a month in between chapters. =) I'm at a pace now where both my longfic WIPs are getting a chapter a month, although I'm always aiming for a bit earlier. Chapter count may go up a little-- I'll have a better idea next update. (Everything's outlined but there's more to flesh out than I had originally planned.) Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> thanks to [no_big_deal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_big_deal/pseuds/no_big_deal) and [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) for their eyes on this!

_Meet me at the stable_.

Rey was dressing in her room, tying her uncooperative hair up into a couple of buns. Her head was buzzing with what couldn’t even be called thoughts; she was just a jumble of nerves, or was it nervous excitement? At first she thought he was joking. But he wasn’t. 

_The Tavern._

All the villagefolk and even the nearby farmers and shepherds would know that she had been taken on as Apprentice to Kylo Ren— _Ben_ —but she had never considered going to the Tavern with him. Their visits with the locals were usually brief—surely owing at least in part to the general consensus about his dour personality—and their trips to the village were infrequent. Rey had stopped by the shops once or twice on her own, and peeked in to check on her little hut a couple of times, but Apprenticeship was a time for study, not socialization. And the Tower was mostly self-sufficient; there was little reason to make regular trips into town together.

The last time she interacted with anyone else was weeks ago, when they had barely been on speaking terms. They had been visiting yet another little family who claimed to have sighted the Jawa. On their way back to the Tower, they passed a flower-peddler on the main road. Rey stopped to eye a handful of dried felucia blossoms among the peddler’s offerings, thinking she would steep them in a tisane to calm her fitful dreams. Ben insisted on paying, even though Rey had enough credits of her own. But it only took one piercing look for her to know that he intended to pay for her flowers. It was the first eye contact he’d made in days, and she was once again filled with shame and regret over how she’d wounded him the night of the storm. Once the money changed hands, she thanked the peddler and continued to the Tower, head down, felucia blossoms in hand, another new shade of sadness coloring her heart. 

Since then, she hadn’t spoken to or seen anyone else. 

Of course, they had nothing to be ashamed of. But Rey knew the villagefolk, and she knew how they talked about “ _Master Ren”_ because it was how _she_ used to talk about him. _Strange . . ._ _mysterious . . . a cruel man . . . scares away his Apprentices._ What in the world would they think happened to her—someone they thought of as friendly enough, and handy with a bag of tools, if a bit of a loner—now that she was with _him_? The Mage who’d had the whole village whispering and gossiping for years? Even if he was misunderstood, that changed nothing about his reputation for being an intimidating, unwelcome presence.

——

They strapped an enormous saddle onto the lone bantha that belonged to the Tower. Ben had never paid the beast much attention, but sometimes Rey would visit the stable because she liked the loud gurgling sound it made when she stroked its horns. It always seemed to have fresh hay in its paddock; clearly another spell that had been put in place to take the upkeep off Ben’s hands—or perhaps Rey’s. It required little maintenance anyway, although Rey had more than once considered its fur could use a trim. 

Most days, a fresh jug of bantha milk was waiting on the main storeroom table in the mornings, along with a humble bowl of muesli and chunks of pickled jogan fruit. 

Today, however, there was more hearty fare in store for them. 

And they were taking the bantha, which they had never done for any errand; their usual excursions were so small, anyway. And . . . so was this one, truth be told. 

“A bit much, isn’t it? Taking out the bantha just for a trip to the Tavern?” Rey was about to climb the creature when Ben offered her a leg up. She stepped into his cupped hands and swung her other leg around the saddle.

“We’ve never been to the Tavern before. Together.” Something about the way he said _together_ made Rey’s heart skip a beat.

“But surely we could walk?”

“We could.” 

“Well then, why make such an . . . entrance?”

“Why not?” 

He hoisted himself up behind her on the saddle, kissed her on the neck, and wrapped his cloak around them both as the bantha lumbered out against the morning mist.

——

Takoszdana Village had just begun to wake. Hearths were lit and chimneys were releasing gray smoke that mingled with the fog, while most shops were still dark. Few people were even out yet. But the Tavern always had customers and early-starters. 

Ben was tying the bantha’s harness to a stake around the corner as Rey walked inside. She was too distracted by the nervous flutter in her stomach to wait for Ben—or perhaps she would still call him _Master Ren_ in the village?

“REY! HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?!” Maz was truly so loud for such a small person. Rey smiled and walked up to the bar, eye-to-eye with its diminutive proprietor, who stood on a wooden platform behind the bartop to better serve her customers. 

“A while, Maz. A long while.”

Maz tapped her thick spectacles once, and they slid down her forehead to land on the bridge of her nose. She had her gimlet eye trained on Rey in a way that made her feel like the only person in the Tavern, even though there were at least twenty people scattered around the main room on the first floor, all with sausages and mead, in varying states of sobriety.

“You look different, girl . . . Quite different.” She looked Rey up and down. “You’ve been cooped up in that Tower for what now, half a year? Finally made it out, I see?”

The tavern door opened and a shot of cold air blew in. There Ben stood, imposing and dark in his cloak, and every patron seemed to forget their conversations. 

Maz glanced quickly at Ben, then back at Rey, raising her eyebrows before settling her scrutiny back on Ben.

“Ahh, I see our friendly local Mage is here.” Always the gracious hostess, that Maz. “Haven’t seen you in a while either, Master Ren,” she said.

He nodded. “Maz.”

“I was just telling Rey how much we missed her all this time she’s been under your . . . tutelage.”

He nodded again.

“Master Ren—is there something I can do for you?” Maz’s eyes darted back and forth between Rey and Ben.

“Table for two.”

Maz repeated the words slowly. “Table. For two. I see . . . Yes, right over there,” she motioned toward a table in one of the side rooms, next to a window, “and fresh bread is on the way.” 

Ben finally stepped all the way forward next to Rey, elbow-to-elbow with her, and she felt her cheeks go hot. 

“ . . . Unless you’d prefer the bar?” Maz’s voice went a bit distant, as if she were repeating something very rote while she continued to study them both.

“Table’s fine,” Rey said quickly.

The nearby patrons resumed their conversations in hushed tones as Ben and Rey sat down. But a dozen pairs of eyes seemed to be on them every few seconds. 

——

The table groaned under platters of scrambled porg eggs, thick slabs of fathier cheese and butter to swipe onto dark green loaves of bread hot out of the oven, and bowls of fermented pineberry paste, pickled jogan, and figs soaked in Hosniyan brandy syrup. Rey hadn’t had a big breakfast like this in ages. She could never afford it; only had it when someone else’s credits were in play. 

Ben seemed to enjoy watching her eyes go wide as each dish arrived, even though he attracted nosy glances from the other diners with each slight smile. He was apparently unbothered by this and ordered more fruit and cheese along with a jar of pickled fish and caraway crackers.

The serving girl never once made eye contact with Ben, but Rey recognized her from the markets. Her family ran a fathier rental business, as the quick but docile animals were better suited for carrying people on long journeys than the usually plodding, if hardy, banthas.

“It’s Róża, isn’t it?”

The girl gave Rey a small smile and nodded as she refilled Ben’s mead. She turned to top up Rey’s, but Rey put her hand over the lip of her flagon.

“I’m switching to bantha milk.” 

Róża nodded again, but before she could walk away, Ben added another order.

“And two Karellian whiskeys, please. Some cakes also.” Róża finally met his eyes, looking a bit surprised, then hurrying away.

Rey balked. “How many credits do you intend to spend on one breakfast?”

“As many as it takes to fill you up.” 

She blushed. “And Karellian whiskey, at this hour? Nobody even drinks that anymore, it’s become so expensive—” 

“It’s where I’m from.”

“You’re from the bottom of a whiskey bottle?” She was feeling more at ease the longer they sat and ate, even as the Tavern filled with people who weren’t exactly ignoring them, but weren’t accosting them either.

Ben’s lip twitched up. “I’m from Karellia.” 

Right.

The mead had already gone to her head, it seemed.

“Karellia. Of course.” _The Princess and the Pirate._

“And you?” He was only trying to know her better, to learn more about her; he’d never asked her before. She answered honestly even though it always stung to think about it.

“Nowhere.” 

She sensed that he understood her discomfort as he reached across to her, extending his open palm onto the table top. An apology.

Rey felt a tenderness envelop her, more powerful than the nervousness she had been carrying with her all morning. She placed her hand in his, and he squeezed it lovingly.

The nearby patrons went quiet again. But the longer they held hands, the louder the room became, and the less attention people paid.

—— 

After settling up with Maz and leaving Róża a generous tip, Ben stood up with his arm outstretched. Rey was charmed by how gentlemanly he was; he had been that way since the beginning, only . . . more stilted, she supposed. Formal. Now, it seemed so sweet. Perhaps he wasn’t the most amiable person; not exactly a popular Mage or even a well enough liked man. But love softened the jagged edges of his personality. In another light, his faults seemed to endear him to her even more.

As they made for the Tavern door, Rey turned back to flash a goodbye smile at Maz. She got a surprise as Ben slipped his hand into hers, in full view of everyone in the establishment, then opened the door with his mind. Maz cocked an eyebrow once again and waved silently as they walked out.

And right as they stepped outside the door, a great raven came swooping down on them, using its beak to pluck a single strand of hair from Rey’s head before flying off at the speed of light.

The last thing she felt was Ben scooping her falling body up into his arms as she lost the strength in her legs first; then her heart seemed to slow until she finally lost her grip on consciousness—just after watching his eyes go wild with terror.

—— 

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you . . . ” Ben’s voice was near, but she couldn’t see him. He sounded winded. 

Her eyelids felt so heavy. 

Footsteps on stone—she knew those footsteps, knew that stone. He was carrying her up the spiral ramp in the Tower. She could scarcely feel her body, aware of it just enough to know that he was cradling her, racing up the ramp towards the upper levels. 

Rey wanted to open her eyes. She strained, using all her energy to barely lift her lids. Her eyelashes obscured a blurred vision of the stone walls of the Tower, gray morning light filtering in through the windows, Ben’s jet-black hair; all whooshing and swirling around as he carried her higher. It made her dizzy and her eyes shut again on their own. Her head—she could feel it now—lolled back against his bent elbow that supported her neck. She willed her lips to move, but all she managed was breath.

His voice came through again, sounding slower, distant, like it was underwater. 

“Rey—save your energy . . . Please . . . ”

She could do that.

She would have to. It wasn’t a choice.

Everything went black again.

—— 

First there was the smell of amilynthus flowers; sweet and waxy.

And Ben. His scent made its way to her; all warm skin and woodfire, but it was shot through with something metallic—worry. Fear. 

She was in bed. It wasn’t her own. She didn’t recognize the airy linens; the orientation of her body seemed off. _Such a hot room._

Finally, she began to open her eyes. They still had that leaden weight to them, but she pushed through.

He was there, sitting by her side.

_Ben._

“Easy—Rey, slowly . . . ” His voice was soft and hushed, and he had one of her hands clasped in between both of his, cooler to the touch than she remembered. She tried to sit upright, but her body was uncooperative.

“What ha— . . . ” Speaking hurt her throat; somehow it even hurt her eyes. Her head felt full and heavy; like it had taken a blow.

“Slowly, Rey—you’re weak.”

She nodded in agreement. 

“You’ve been injured. And you’ve been . . . seen. The Sith of the Wood knows about you. _He_ knows about you.”

None of it made any sense. He might as well be speaking Dathomiri.

“The raven . . .” he began.

She remembered now. At the Tavern. A great raven dove towards them, the same raven she had conjured by accident the night before in Ben’s chambers. _It had stolen a hair from her head._

“I know.” She strained to get the words out.

“You know? How—” There was a quiet shuffling sound. Ben turned to the door of this unfamiliar room. “Thank you, leave it there. And more dewbark. Please.” She spied a girl with a round face and black pigtails. He was talking to Róża from the Tavern.

“Where . . .” Rey couldn’t finish, but she hoped he understood the question.

“In my bedchamber. Closer to some things I needed. To help you.”

Rey looked around; she had never been in his bedroom before. The door had always stayed closed to the rest of his chambers. This was different from his other rooms; still spacious, but almost empty. There were no stacks of books or piles of scrolls. It was spare and simple; a bed, a hearth, and a table near the door, which looked to be where Róża had left a jug of water surrounded by a variety of dried herbs from the storeroom. 

And on a smaller table next to her bedside, a pitcher filled with the delicate yellow amilynthus flowers Rey kept in her washroom. He must have brought them down.

“My flowers, you—” 

“I sent Róża. She’s helping here, until you’re stronger.” Rey noticed his eyes, glassy and sunken, brow knitted and set in an expression of prolonged concern.

“You look tired, you should—”

“I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t leave you.” His hands had a mild tremor as they clasped hers, Rey realized. 

“Ben, please, wh—what’s happened to me . . .”

He leaned forward from where he sat and pressed his lips to her forehead. They seemed ice cold. His body was usually so warm; something was very wrong. 

“You’re going to be all right. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

His kiss, his voice, the hot room and the heady flowers all conspired to close Rey’s eyes for her. She wasn’t ready. She needed to stay awake. But sleep settled its weight over her like the fog that blanketed the valley, and she surrendered to its thick, heavy quiet.

——

Sunlight streamed through the open window in Ben’s chambers. Rey awakened, disoriented at first, but then feeling more like herself; her strength was returning. Her muscles moved when she told them to. She could breathe deeply again. 

His stare was fixed on her, just as it had been when she was last conscious.

He looked awful.

“Rey.” 

She reached a hand out to him, and he took her fingers, pressed his mouth to them. He felt warm again, and the room itself wasn’t so stifling anymore. 

“Was it . . . a fever?”

“You could say that. Yes.”

“How long?”

“Three days, three nights.”

“Thr—oh Ben, you haven’t slept. What were you thinking—”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Now that you’re all right.”

“Róża, she’s—”

“I’m sending her home. With a sack of credits and infusions.”

“She looked rather scared of you at the Tavern. I’m surprised you persuaded her to come.”

“It was Maz’s idea. She knows that I . . . that we live alone here.” He had dark circles under his eyes and looked even paler than usual. “Róża has been indispensable.”

A quiet knock came from the doorway.

“Enter,” Ben said, without turning around.

“Master Ren.” Róża walked in with a tray and gave Rey a small, thin smile. Rey could smell bread and saw a steaming tureen. She realized she was famished.

Róża set the tray down and picked up a bowl, but Ben stood abruptly and she stopped moving.

“I’ll handle the rest. Your credits are waiting for you in the storeroom.” He paused for a moment, almost like he noticed the brusque quality of his normal speech, but did nothing to moderate it as he continued. “Take some apples for your fathiers.” She nodded, wide-eyed and silent. “Thank you, Róża. Thank the Force for you.” 

Róża was frozen for a moment before she seemed to remember herself. She walked out, shooting a last little curious glance at Rey before turning down the hall.

Rey used her newly regained strength to prop herself up a bit on the small mountain of pillows stacked against the headboard, watching Ben as he ladled hot water over bowls that had been filled with dried dewbark and pineberry powder. He brought a bowl to her bedside table, and she saw the water turn orange from the infusion of medicinal plants, herbaceous in fragrance as they rehydrated and puffed up in the water. 

“I never knew dewbark was used for fever,” she said. 

“You had . . . more than a fever.” Ben sat down in his chair beside the bed and spooned out some of the broth, holding a hand underneath it. “Drink.”

Rey let him spoon feed her, even though she could probably do it herself. It was an act of nurturing she had never experienced before in her life, and felt as intimate as anything they had done the night before.

She finished most of the small bowl, and her whole body felt fortified and relaxed within minutes.

“Come into bed, Ben. You have to sleep, too.” He was returning the bowl to the table by the door with his back to her. He did not respond. “ . . . Please.”

When he turned around, she saw tears in his eyes. He made his way over and slowly climbed into bed next to her, his loose black tunic smelling of nervous sweat and herbs. She opened her arms to him. He placed a hand on her waist and buried his head in her side, weeping softly into her thin shift until he fell asleep, with Rey following soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! If you'd like to check out my other fics, here's what I've got cooking:
> 
> [A Deep Sworn Vow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822522/chapters/54543070), my canonverse post-TROS fix-it 
> 
> and
> 
> [The Lazy River](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219195/chapters/61127752), a fluffy, funny summertime story set in a suburban Virginia waterpark with a **_top secret twist_**
> 
> \-----come say hi on twitter! [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the incident at the Tavern, Rey and Ben make plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between updates-- Thanks for sticking with me! I'm well into writing Chapter 10 and have 2 other WIPs as well if you'd like to check those out, linked in the end notes. I really, really appreciate comments and kudos, especially since comments let me know what you were most interested in, and that helps me learn as a writer! Thanks for reading =)
> 
> thanks to [no_big_deal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_big_deal/pseuds/no_big_deal) and [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) for their eyes on this!

———

_Long before the Mages, there lived the Conjurers. No one had seen a Conjurer for millennia, since the Low Times, but the stories stayed. A Conjurer could master the Steps of the Force, move objects elegantly with a mere thought. They could rip the green from the earth and cast it a thousand miles across the continent. The same Conjurer could bring the ground to bloom with spontaneous Force Magic, lift maladies from the old and infirm and transform the stale air into perfume. They were legendary; impossible. Gone._

_The time of the Conjurers was prophesied to return, and the transformation of Force Magic would herald a new age of learning and progress. Many versions of the prophecy existed, but they all shared one thing in common: a woman of wisdom and a man of myth, blessed by the Force, would unite and share the secrets of the Wood with the people._

— Excerpt from _The Musings of Master Mage Qui Gon Djinn the Elder_

———

“It’s all my fault.” 

Ben spoke quietly, shaking his head and pacing in front of the fireplace. Rey reclined with her knees curled up on the crimson chaise in his chambers. The torches were blown out for the night, leaving aflame only the hearth and a handful of candles suffusing the corner with a warm glow while the rest of the room was cloaked in shadow.

The rains had eased up considerably over the past week, and Rey was looking forward to finally being out of doors again. Tonight’s thin mist portended a bright, crisp day tomorrow, perfect for walking in the sunlight. She was stronger each day, eating and bathing and venturing down to the storeroom for breakfast, then climbing the spiral ramp all the way up to his chambers again. Their chambers.

Tonight, she felt the healthiest she’d been since her fever had broken.

“It isn’t your fault. You’re very hard on yourself for no reason at all.” She patted the spot next to her. “Sit with me.”

“I should never have used the Force at the Tavern.” He propped an arm onto the mantle, his other hand on his hip as he glowered into the fire. “I should have known.”

Rey sighed, wishing he would stop brooding over something that had already happened. “Such a modest display of Force magic, simply opening the Tavern door, how could you have known it would alert the Sith? You’ve read every book in the library, front to back. The Sith-possessed raven . . . no one could have predicted that. It was a fluke.”

“I should have sensed it.” He joined her on the chaise, hunching forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his restless hands together. She tucked her toes under his thigh but he seemed unmoved by the gesture, instead continuing his fretful ruminations. “He knows about you now.”

“It’s—it’s done. We can’t change it.” She sat forward and slipped her hand in between his. He finally stilled his nervous movements, squeezing her palm instead. “You said yourself, it could be weeks, even months, before the Sith Lord summons enough Dark Force energy to emerge from the Wood. None of the signs told us it was imminent. And we have a plan, a strategy for releasing the enchanted Chloria into the waterways. We can stop him before he uses his power to channel the Dark and destroy the valley.”

“What? You aren’t going anywhere. You’re not so much as getting on a bantha.” He didn’t look cross; she had never heard him raise his voice even once. His tone was muted, but his face betrayed him; wan and awash with worry. “Not after what happened. It’s too dangerous.” 

Rey had expected him to try something like this with her, knowing him as she did and sensing his emotional state, but it still riled her up. “I most certainly _am_ going with you, that’s been our plan for months! All this time working together and you think you can leave me behind to go on your own?”

“Yes.” 

“Oh, no, Ben. No.” She laughed ominously.

“Rey,” he began, remaining calm and measured as ever, “it’s my fault. I will not allow you to—”

“—Allow me?” 

“—to risk your safety, your life. You’re still recovering from the fever, your Force magic was weakened by the raven, I can’t—”

“You can’t what?”

“I— I couldn’t bear it. Seeing you like that. Not knowing if you’d . . . ” 

“I’m getting stronger now. Every day. Soon, I’ll be stronger than you, just you wait. You might be big, but I’m fast. I’ll race you to the storeroom and back up here tomorrow morning. And I’ll win, bet you a credit.” 

“Rey, I—” 

His pleading expression softened her tone. “You what?”

“At the stream. When you almost drank raw Chloria. I thought my heart would stop.” She felt her own heart flutter at his earnestness. There was something in those sad, downturned eyes that tugged inside her chest. “When I left the Tower, the night of the storm, all I thought about was you.” His jaw worked. “If you hated me, if you missed me, if you were eating enough, if you were warm enough.”

“I can look after myself. I’ve done it my whole life. And I’m coming with you. You will not stop me.” She was adamant; not angry, really, but determined. He sighed in apparent resignation. Her thoughts turned to that dark week she spent in the Tower alone. “You were right, though. I did miss you, when you left. I was angry with you, confused. But more than anything, I wanted you to come home to me.”

“Home . . . ”

“To the Tower. To our home.”

His brow furrowed and his eyes went a bit glassy. It seemed that whole minutes had passed until he finally repeated the words, hushed and heavy and reverent. “Our home.”

She scooted closer, knees bent up over his thigh, leaning against him. “Yes.”

He curled his arms around her and pressed his lips to her hair. “I just want to protect you,” he said, gentle and quiet. 

“Maybe you need me to protect _you_ , Master Ren,” she smiled up at him, scrunching her nose, and he let out a soft chuckle before his face turned thoughtful. 

“‘ _Master Ren’_ —I don’t know that I want you to call me that anymore.”

“Very well, O Wise Mage.” She could do with a bit of flirting. And he could do with a bit of teasing. 

“No, not that either.” _Always the serious ascetic._

“All right, Ben,” she rolled her eyes and kissed his chin.

“That’s not what I mean.” His gaze was intense, expectant, a watery sheen over his dark golden irises. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear with a tentative finger.

She was growing puzzled by this game. “What would you have me call you, then?”

“Husband.” The air left her lungs, and her heart skipped. “If you’ll have me.” 

“I’m—I—”

“Say you’ll have me, Rey.” It wasn’t a demand. It was a prayer.

Her instincts overwhelmed her instead; she caught his mouth, surprising him—but a quiet sound of satisfaction left his throat as he met the movement of her lips. She settled herself fully into his lap and threaded her fingers through his thick black hair. 

He drew back to look her in the eye, searching her face again as their chests rose and fell together. His head dipped next to her ear as he whispered again, “ _Say_ you’ll have me,” stretching his hands across her back. “Rey, I love you. More than life,” he murmured into her neck. “Please make me yours. Forever.” 

She didn’t expect this, she had never thought much about taking a husband, but it felt right; true and obvious like a tree rooted in the earth.

She nodded, heart full. “I’ll have you, Ben. Forever.” He released a soft sigh, then kissed her; slow and amorous. She gasped quietly when he stood, holding her, carrying her over by the fire, laying her back gingerly upon the pillows—and he whispered _forever, forever_ , lifting off her shift, shedding his tunic and trousers, _forever_ as she pulled him down to the cushions, locked her legs around him and clutched his shoulders as he hovered over her, _forever_ as he pressed his body into hers and the heat from the flames set them both aflush, while their breaths broke into shudders, _forever, forever_ as he held her hands above her head, as she pulled his lips with hers, eyes locked together as they climbed toward ecstasy, _forever, forever, forever, forever._

——— 

The morning air was invigorating. Rey was right—last night’s mist had burned off early, leaving a thin sheen of dew on the leaves and grasses, reflecting the yellow autumn sunlight. Their walk into town had a purpose that was twofold: Rey wanted fresh air, and they meant to pay a visit to the Tiko Stables.

It was Rey’s idea to hire the fathiers from Róża’s family. Her father ran a rental and provisions outfit in the village, and Rey had once saved up enough credits to hire a fathier just for a few hours, to race around the edge of the Darkling Plain. It had been one of the most exhilarating afternoons of her life, laughing with the wind in her hair, nine feet off the ground on a bolting steed. Fathiers were twenty times faster than banthas. They took up less space and didn’t require much more food despite their tall size and lean muscle. Much better for the journey ahead.

When she neared Hackneyman Tiko’s stable on the main street, Rey was a few dozen feet ahead of Ben, who had stopped to listen to another account of a Jawa sighting. He’d motioned for Rey to go on without him, saving her the tediousness of hearing about it. She had expected to see Mr. Tiko. Instead, she found Róża sitting out front of the stable on what looked to be a bar stool borrowed, or perhaps purchased, from Maz’s Tavern. 

“Róża! What a lovely surprise to see you here,” Rey said, patting a porg that sat on a wooden ledge protruding from the merchant’s window.

“I usually don’t get much time in at the stable. But my father and sister are in the Western Reaches, to bid on a new stud. So it’s just me for now.” Róża set down several pieces of colorful leather she had been braiding together into what looked to be an ornament for a harness. “You’re looking well, Rey.” She had a kindly smile.

Ben strode up to the window and Róża gave him a cordial nod.

“I can’t thank you enough for your help while I was ill, staying at the Tower for days. And B—Master Ren, of course, he’s—”

“I am very grateful for your assistance, Róża,” Ben interrupted as if to make a point of not needing prompting to be polite. Rey blushed slightly, embarrassed to be awkwardly correcting the man she had agreed to marry, knowing him to be gracious and good to the core, just occasionally . . . prickly. “Your help spared Rey from a far more difficult recovery.”

Róża still looked slightly wary of Ben. But she seemed much less afraid than before, and it was even more evident when she remarked rather bluntly, “I’ve never seen a fever like that.”

Rey looked down at her feet and bit her lip. Living at the Tower for six months had skewed her sense of normal village life and attitudes. No one would have known that the Sith had sent the raven to weaken her Force magic; they merely saw her being attacked by a bird, heard that she had been fighting illness. None of the villagefolk knew about the Sith in the first place, or that Rey’s magic was powerful in a manner quite different from the traditions of the Mages. 

Róża must’ve caught the hint that Rey was uncomfortable, because she quickly asked, “What brings you into the village today?” 

“Rey and I would like to reserve two of your fathiers. Your best.”

“Ah, I see. The thing is, we’re a little under-stocked. Our best are out on loan to the Shag Kava minstrel troupe; they’re on a tour of some other taverns down the river. But I do have some sturdy banthas instead—”

“No banthas. We have one of our own. We need fathiers for their speed.” Ben looked annoyed, impatient, with an expression that Rey almost didn’t recognize at first. She wasn’t sure what gave him away, but in the end, she decided it must have been the eye twitch. “Those itinerant musicians, when are they expected to return?”

“At least a couple of months. But these two,” she gestured toward the stalls occupied near the back of the stable, “Narew and Vistula—they’re not our most agreeable, but they’re fast. You’re welcome to have a look, if you like. Just be careful. Narew bites.” Róża mumbled something else, something to do with Vistula and kicking, but they were already halfway down the stable and Rey couldn't quite make it out through the din of purring and grunting animals.

They neared the final two stalls. The fathiers moved forward, sticking their heads out of where the upper portion of the wooden doors were cut out for easy feeding and contact. “This one must be Narew.” Rey reached up to let the animal sniff the back of her hand. Narew tilted her black snout down, relaxing her giant, tawny ears, and her nostrils flared as she took in the smell of Rey’s skin. 

“How do you know?” 

“Róża said she bites. I don’t know why, but something told me to let her catch my scent before approaching. Look,” she said with a contented smile. “She trusts me.”

“You do know why, then.” Ben removed his glove and followed Rey’s lead. Narew made a grunting noise before accepting the offer to sniff his outstretched hand as well.

“Do I?” Rey wasn’t trying to play coy. She was still uncertain of what it meant to be powerful with the Force. It was one thing to read it in books, but another thing entirely to live it—to heal wounds, conjure birds, shape the moss-covered earth or calm an ornery fathier by using pure intuition. She could do it, all of it. She’d done it. But it was overwhelming at times to have such an ability and not know why. Where it came from. Or how she’d never noticed it before leaving home for the Tower.

Ben leaned close, sensing her, hearing her unsettled thoughts. “Trust yourself with the Force. It trusts you.” The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, tenderly, as he brushed Rey’s cheekbone with his gloved hand. Narew bared her square teeth just then, and bit his other hand—light, like a warning—and they both laughed, knowing Narew would most decidedly be Rey’s mount. 

———

They paid Róża half the credits in advance to reserve the fathiers, and arranged a time to collect them before their journey would begin. On their walk home, they followed along the edge of the Darkling Plain to gather the last of the summer briarplom blooms for drying. The desiccated petals could be milled into a fine powder specifically used for healing fathier wounds. But people were always cautioned not to inhale the powder while preparing it for its intended purpose. The substance had an entirely different effect on humans, boosting libido, fertility—yet it was said that a person’s sensual pleasure would multiply by so much that they’d forget themselves and fall through a fairy ring like the one that grew around Ben and Rey on the rooftop that starlit evening not long ago. Fairy rings were rare, mythical formations composed of midichloriae mushrooms or felucia blossoms or some such enchanted plant. The story went that those who breathed in the briarplom powder would find themselves in an intense sexual fervor, spirited away to the darkest interior of the Wood Beyond the World, lost and cut off from civilization. Those were the tales, anyway. Rey always took them with a grain of salt. 

———

The gnarled roots of the tree were blackened, charred by fires long past and without any new growth; nary a moss, mushroom nor fern sprouted from the maze of cleaves in the wood. A thin smoke swirled up from the fetid earth around the roots instead, as if the ancient tree were still smoldering from the lightning storm that had rendered it into a husk of itself thousands of years ago.

A hunched-over, hooded figure stood near the trunk of the tree, running his wrinkled, purplish fingers down its sooty bark. He nodded in approval, _yes, goooood_ , and his Acolyte handed him a carbon dagger etched with intricate symbols. The old man took the dagger to the tree trunk and hacked a gash into the wood, twisting the knife to pry loose flecks of bark until a paler wood was revealed, and underneath it, a tiny sliver of green pith, almost undetectable to the naked eye. The Acolyte handed his master another item, this time a strand of chestnut hair. The Master pinched it between his shriveled fingers, holding it up to regard it for a moment, then dropped it into the small opening in the trunk. The tree accepted it as if it were nourishment, pulling it in and enveloping it, until it vanished into the wood. 

Then, the Master raised his outstretched hands toward the sliced open bark. A serrated shriek filled the air as violet lightning sprayed from his fingertips, catching onto the tree, illuminating everything nearby—dead things, all of them—and sealing the opening of the tree trunk until it was black again. The Master lowered his hands, and the lightning dissipated. Only a few scattered echoes of thin electric currents screeched up and down the tree, until there was silence again.

The Acolyte broke that silence, turning to his Master. “It is finished, Lord Palputin.” 

The dark Sith Lord reached a hand out toward his Acolyte, twisting his wrist in the air. The Acolyte clutched his neck. He dropped to the ground writhing until his last breath left him and he lay dead on the black tree roots.

“No, my feeble companion. It is just beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .......get it? _palputin?? get it????_   
> (i'll see myself out now)
> 
> thanks for reading! If you'd like to check out my other fics, you can subscribe to my pseud on my [author page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoeticEdda)
> 
> \-----come say hi on twitter! [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> updated tag, just in case you didn't catch the hint from last chapter ;)
> 
> NSFW!
> 
> mega thanks to [no_big_deal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_big_deal/pseuds/no_big_deal) and [HarpiaHarpyja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja) for their eyes on this!

_There was once a young man who had been blessed with every advantage. Wealth, status, a quick mind and a sharp wit—and strength in the Force. But, despite using his cunning to attain a prestigious position in the court of the land, he was covetous of the Queen. He wished for her affections, and even more for her power. Yet her heart belonged to another, a rogue of humble birth and bright talent._

_Frustrated, he ventured beyond the city walls and sought out an old Conjurer—perhaps the last one left—a frail but sly man who lived in the forest. He found the old man living inside the trunk of a hollowed out tree, around which no ferns or mushrooms or mosses grew; just dry earth, devoid of life. The Conjurer claimed to be older than any other person in the world. When the young man asked the Conjurer how he managed such a feat, the old man told him his secret: he sucked the life from the tree, almost all of it, but left just enough intact so the tree would not die. Instead, the tree clung to the tiny life force left inside, sustaining the Conjurer and preventing his death in a manner some consider to be unnatural._

_The old man offered to teach the young man, so he could live in his own tree, and defeat death. Betraying him, the young man used the Force to kill the Conjurer and the tree, stealing the life energy for himself and multiplying his own powers tenfold. The young man then returned to Court with tales of a grave threat from the forest. He manipulated the Queen and preyed on her fears to become Chancellor in her stead, before poisoning her, turning her handsome rogue against her, and seizing her throne once and for all as Emperor._

—from _Myths and Origins of the Sith_ , by Historian, Librarian Mage, and Caretaker of Knowledge Restelly Quist [Coruskan: Rustoly Kvist]

———

Ever since the night they had agreed to wed, Rey noticed a subtle shift in Ben’s demeanor. It was his habit to brood, and he had done just that since Rey insisted on journeying to the heart of the Wood. He’d lost that argument. Yet after he had won her promise to join him in marriage, he was quicker to snap out of his fugues. His smiles came easier. His laughter, too. There was almost a spring in his step, a buoyancy in him that Rey had never noticed in all their months living together. At times, it was as if there were no Sith threat in the Wood; he seemed unfazed and entirely distracted—a man in love. 

And Ben wanted a wedding.

There needn’t be any ceremony. Neither the valley in which Takoszdana Village was situated nor the greater Tashtor region was known for a strict adherence to any arcane rituals. Rey couldn’t bring herself to care either way. But Ben was a Mage, and a particular one at that. A Mage’s vows, he said, required a certain attention to local custom. 

There was a village tradition of celebration when two people were wed. Although Rey could just as easily eschew the formalities and toasts and instead skip right to the feasting, Ben rather surprised her by insisting on the whole affair, complete with flowers and music and fine garments for them both. For someone whose temperament was so naturally reserved, he was unexpectedly sentimental. His hidden softheartedness aside, it would be quite something for _Kylo Ren_ to have a traditional village wedding. Especially since nobody liked him.

Rey laughed at the idea of Ben at any sort of party; no one but her even knew his real name. 

———

They worked in the storeroom, through the quiet of the afternoon, not unlike their first weeks together at the Tower. There were tinctures to be corked, supplies to be catalogued, and a fair number of raw herbs and minerals waiting to be processed whether by Force magic or by the simple labor of human hands.

Rey reached toward the ceiling where dozens of plants hung upside down in varying stages of desiccation, dangling by thin threads from tiny hooks screwed into the wooden beams. She pulled down a grayish-green stem covered in maroon blooms still resplendent with late summer color. Each silver-edged, scalloped petal had dried smooth and soft, retaining its rich hue, a perfect state for milling into fathier balm. There were no thorns on briarplom stems; only flat, felt-textured leaves shaped like twinkling stars filtered through the eyesight of someone with too much brandy rushing through their blood. 

She climbed down the ladder and set the stem onto the long worktable, then plucked a bloom off with great care. She placed it in a deep mortar and began working the dried plom bloom slowly with a long, blunt pestle, all arm and very little wrist, so as not to agitate any stray briarplom powder into the air. 

“But where _did_ you go, when you were away from the Tower? You’ve never told me.” She was grinding away at the plom, wanting to make conversation but careful not to look away from the mortar and pestle. Ben sat at the end of the table sorting Chloria vials.

“I spent the week in silence, at a temple outside Hosniya. Meditating.”

“Meditating . . . for a week?”

“I had fallen for my Apprentice.” He said this without looking up. Rey stopped milling the dried petals, allowing herself a small, indulgent smile at his attempt at dry humor. As if he heard the sides of her mouth curl up, Ben left his stool and made his way over.

“Ah.” She began grinding again. “Must be some Apprentice.” She heard a low chuckle hang in the air, thick and knowing. Ben stood close behind her, but without touching her at all. “And the meditation helped? You returned barely speaking to me. It was months before we—” He was all warmth, his familiar musk emanating from his body as he towered over her. “—before we reconciled.”

“I’ve never been so frustrated while meditating in my life.” She felt his words on the nape of her neck, moving the air across her skin. “You filled my mind, all day.” He whispered a kiss along the edge of her ear. “And all night.” 

“I see.” 

“Let me help. That pestle looks entirely too big for you.”

“I’ve handled bigger.” She paused in moving the pestle to tilt her head around and give him a playful look.

“Have you?” With a wry grin, he clasped a large hand onto hers where she held the stone pestle. She went back to grinding the plom, allowing him to add the force of his muscles to her task. Not that she needed them. But she didn’t mind.

“Mm-hmm. Crushing jogan for wine, during the harvest. Big, big pestle.” He laughed louder then, and his chest jolted slightly into Rey’s upper back, sending a frisson of excitement down her spine and temporarily making her forget herself. Her hand twitched underneath his, and the pestle jerked forward and up against the wall of the mortar, sending the faintest puff of fine powder into the air. 

“Oh—”

“—Oh”

It was too late. 

“Such a small amount—” he said, pressing against her from behind.

“—Can’t be enough to cause anyth—” she closed her eyes as his finger trailed up her arm, pulled delicately at her blouse, exposed the skin of her shoulder where he leaned down to place a soft kiss.

“We’d be doing this anyway—” The rich timbre of his baritone rumbled into her collarbone. 

“Indeed, we would—” Rey whirled around to face him, releasing her grip on the pestle just as his own tightened around it, knocking even more powder into the air. “Oh dear—” She met his gaze, intense as ever, but with a wild glint. Heat pooled low in her belly, overriding her sense of worry. Something in the room shifted; the temperature or the humidity, perhaps. _We both inhaled the plom bloom._

“We’ll be fine.” The tone of his voice was strange, almost distant. Yet urgent.

Feeling a bit dizzy, she backed up against the table to brace herself, trying to keep her balance. She splayed a palm out on the wooden surface just as Ben leaned in, crowding her with a knee nudging at her thighs. Rey felt her pulse in her throat, and between her legs.

“But fairy rings—” She mouthed the last word into silence.

“—Are no match for us—” He brought a hand to her waist, squeezing gently. She was trying to keep her wits about her, but he wasn’t helping.

“—You mean we’re no match for th— _oh_!” He dropped the pestle and lifted her onto the tabletop, setting her down so her legs dangled off the edge.

Ben’s fingers fell from her waist to the hem of her skirt. His hands shuddered down her bare calves, lifting her left foot up and pressing his mouth to the bone on the inside of her ankle. He sighed into her skin, kissed a trail up to her knee. A shiver sailed through her core. 

“Rey, I w—I—” The scent of his skin, his breath was intoxicating as he leaned close, chest heaving and eyes heavy-lidded, all want and no words. 

_I want you too_. 

She raked through his hair, tucking thick black strands behind his ears while he loosened the laces of her blouse. He tugged down the thin muslin of her neckline rather gruffly, only to use the most delicate touch as he gentled the pebbled flesh of her nipple. His mouth followed, sucking and _hmm_ -ing as he pulled the rest of the fabric down to her waist. 

“Yes that, _yes_ —” she gasped, nearly delirious with desire and no longer able to form full sentences. She began unfastening the hooks of his tunic, pursing her lips at the time it was taking. He took over as she lost patience. Instead, she rucked up her skirt, opening her thighs wider; less an invitation than a plea. He licked his lips, kicking off his boots and untying his leather trousers faster than she’d ever seen. When his cock was freed, she reached out instinctively. A sharp shot of air passed through his teeth when her fingers met the swollen tip.

The rest of the world blurred away. There was just him, just her, just the charged air between their bodies, the soft friction of her palm against his skin. To Rey’s vision, the room was melting into a haze of stone and wood. It was all one swirling, indistinct backdrop for the cut of Ben’s cheekbone, the black rush of his hair; the solid, safe shape of his shoulders. He wrapped his hand around hers, guiding the head of his shaft to her sex, nudging her sensitive apex as he coated the tip with fluid.

Rey whined as he lingered there, her own voice almost unrecognizable to her.

 _Please_.

Ben surged forward to set a hot, slanted kiss upon her lips. He pressed into her entrance with one heavy slide, cradling her in an embrace the very instant after he sank inside her. She clung to his neck, exhaled a high note at the searing pressure of him right where she wanted. For a few moments, they were both motionless except for the rising and falling of their chests, until she was ready; she nodded, and he began to move.

He pushed a few times, slowly at first, _you feel so good_ , and soon they were rocking back and forth in earnest. Their breaths floated above, syncopated, locking into the rhythm every few moments when everything came to a rapturous downbeat, then starting anew on the heels of the last phrase. Rey was flooded with pleasure at the stretch of him inside, the hunger in his every thrust and the way her whole body responded to his like they were made for each other. She rolled her hips to his tempo, arching her back, increasingly frantic noises escaping her throat.

The room spun, not exactly like vertigo, but as if they were in swirling water. An image of the Wood flashed into Rey’s mind, of two lovers kissing amid the trees, of hidden lakes and dark hedges she’d never seen before, of falling onto Ben’s chest that day by the frozen stream. The memory of that early moment of desire only made her burn brighter for him. She tugged at the sleeves of his open tunic, trying to get him onto the table with her, yanking at the fabric until he seemed to understand. 

He slipped out of her just then, peeling off his trousers fully but unable to bother with his jacket. She backed up as he climbed onto the table to hover over her, knocking scrolls and wooden bowls off the surface, only to swiftly find his way back, chanting _Rey, Rey_ while he drove into her again and again, insistent, as if making up for lost time. She pawed at his ribcage, the taut flesh of his stomach, and heard herself whisper _faster_ , heard her voice breathe _harder_ , heard herself sing _more_.

“ _Force_ , Rey—” he hissed between huffs. She nearly sobbed at the sharpness of the pleasure.

Ben brought thick fingers to where his length was buried in her cunt, pulling warm, wet strokes up to her clitoris, breaking and complicating the rhythm of him sliding in and out of her. 

_There. Right there._

She felt her abdomen start to flutter, her walls contracting around him as her orgasm rolled open, at first tight and narrow, then going wide and full as she breathed and moaned through it, as Ben massaged and coaxed every wave from her. 

“ _Beautiful_ —” He kissed her open mouth through the rest of her climax, hips bucking into her, more and more erratic. Then, he drew back just enough to look her in the eye and took in a sharp breath as he reached his own release. “Rey, I—I’m c—Ah _—Ahhhhh_ . . . ” he groaned, twitching, hot spend filling her. 

Her legs were weak, arms liquid, and yet— a renewed desire dovetailed with the afterglow; she still wanted something, sending a message only Ben could hear: _more._

It was clear from his eyes that he understood. _More._

Perhaps he felt it, too.

He moved his kisses to her jaw, tongue laving down her neck. The thinnest layer of stubble tickled her skin as he pressed his lips to her sternum, pearling her nipples between the pads of his fingers, grazing them with his teeth. Her hands were in his sweat-mussed hair, still shaking from the aftershocks even as she could feel him hardening again inside her. It was confusing, it was too much, it was all she wanted and everything she needed. _It’s the briarplom._

“I don’t care,” he said, breathless. His knees shifted on the wooden table and she saw how red they were, wished they could be making love somewhere else, somewhere softer—and then the light flickered for a split second. His eyes went wide. “Did you see—”

“See what—”

“The clover . . . ” She shook her head. Whatever it was, it didn’t distract Ben enough from his intent. He drew back a bit, with a hand sliding under her thigh, gently bending her knee up to tilt their angle together. But his brows knitted in obvious concern as he looked down, and she realized he could see the underside of her cheeks, also beginning to chafe from the wood. He tried to tug her skirt down between her backside and the table, but she suddenly felt a pile of silken velvet cushions underneath her, next to her, surrounding them both.

“Ben, look—”

“I don’t—” She watched as the recognition crept across his face. 

_It’s the briarplom._

His attention returned to her body. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

She thought she nodded; she babbled a hundred affirmatives, feverish again at the prospect of _more_. 

He helped with her skirt all the same. Then he pulled out of her slowly, almost all the way; sinking back in just as deliberately without breaking eye contact, lighting up nerve endings she didn’t know she had. Her fingers flew up to clutch anything she could, grasping at the collar of his open tunic. Instead, he shrugged it off and grabbed both her wrists, holding them against the table on either side of her head while he moved agonizingly, excruciatingly slow.

“Mmm, please more _please_ —” she murmured.

“No my Lady,” he breathed darkly, stilling inside her. “Now, I want you one sweet drop at a time.” She shivered as he pressed a soft kiss onto her neck. 

“You mean to make me wait?” She squirmed.

“I mean to make you scream.” 

Those words alone nearly finished her. Rey was practically vibrating, desperate for him to move again.

Once he did, nothing she said seemed to influence him. She begged. She pleaded for more but he stayed at his languid pace—instead, stirring something deeper inside her. Something quieter, something slower and lower, lengthening the deep build of sensation. He kissed and kissed and kissed her, whispering _my Lady,_ locking his fingers with hers, elbows digging into the silken pillows that had appeared around them. 

_Ben, my love_ — 

Her vision shifted again; they were surrounded by dense ferns in the shade, feathering against the exposed skin of their bodies. He kept pressing kisses along her neck, under her ear, _my love, my Lady._

 _Oh_ — 

Another shift; now, in the sand on the shoreline of some far off place, bodies still locked together, undulating slowly beneath a rose-colored sunset mottled with gray clouds.

“Do you see—”

“—I see it,” he said. “I see the island.”

There was no controlling it; they were under the spell of the briarplom powder. Rey gave up trying to understand and gave in to the visions, to her body, to her need. They may have been swept up in some netherworld of imagination, just like the stories, but their love was real. And the briarplom only seemed to unlock endless wells of desire that had been growing ever since they met, deepening since they first touched. 

It intensified everything.

The heat in Rey’s belly was coiled up like a spring, stretching with each brush of Ben’s lips, every slide of his hips; all her senses heightened with his slow, persistent motion. His pelvis hit her swollen bundle of nerves— tap . . . tap . . . tap . . . the skin of his abdomen tugging at it each time. The fullness of him inside her, the sheer amount of him, each time he drew back it was like a tide pulling away, threatening to engulf her with its inevitable return. Feeling overwhelmed, she turned her head to the side, eyelashes fluttering.

Ben caught her chin, bringing her gaze back to his.

“I want to see you,” he said quietly, intently. “I want to watch you.” He slowed his pace even more. “ _Please_.”

Rey felt her center go molten, warmth flooding her body all the way to the tips of her fingers. 

“Ben . . . ” 

_Let go._

He deepened his angle, moving in long strokes, pulling her toward the edge of something fathomless and irresistible. His throat hummed a low note and she could feel him getting closer, working harder to keep himself from unraveling.

_Come for me._

His thrusts picked up just enough speed to push them both to the brink. Rey clutched his back, dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades, lifted her hips further up into the angle they had found. She had tears in her eyes from the tension, from the orgasm about to erupt. “ _Oh_ —”

_I love you. I love you. I—_

Her climax crashed over her. “ _Ben!_ —” Vision blurring, mind blanking, she cried out his name with every tremor that rolled through her core, as he drew out her pleasure by fucking her through it, moaning with her, until he could no longer hold off his own finish.

He shouted as he came. They were both breathless, clinging to each other, flushed from head to toe.

_That wasn’t the briarplom._

_I know._

Rey pressed her lips to his, cradling his face in her palms and thumbing his dimpled cheeks as he smiled down at her. Day had turned to dusk and they were on the lush green rooftop; the Wood upon the Tower. _The stories were true._ They had been spirited away to the Wood, from a certain point of view.

She watched as Ben became aware of their surroundings, glancing around, but his gaze was back on her in an instant; black with lust, wet with tenderness.

 _More_ , she thought again.

He nodded.

 _More_.

She could feel every slight, minute movement he made inside her. Hard again, mounting pressure exquisite with an edge of pain. _Again, again._ Human bodies weren’t meant for this, warned the conventional wisdom of the world. But maybe the world was wrong. 

_Again. Don’t stop._

_Anything, Rey. Anything._

The colors of the rooftop melted away entirely and they were in a void; dim points of faraway light the only backdrop, as if they were among the stars. They climbed toward the peak again and again, chasing that feeling that made Rey’s mind white out. Over and over. Each time it was like fire-caught parchment; just a single touch of flame that went wanton, gyrating and multiplying as it consumed the fuel that was meant for it, before turning the page.

They made love until each climax blended into the next, until they were soaking with sweat and panting like animals. Rey had wiggled out of her remaining clothes, urging Ben onto his back in this empty place-between-places, and riding him until he screamed _her_ name, so loudly—the first time she’d ever heard him truly raise his voice—“Rey, Rey _Rey_ —” neck red, veins bulging, gripping her waist like he was holding on for dear life. Watching him come so hard set another searing orgasm tearing through her again. She spasmed around him as he convulsed and spilled into her, leaving Rey quaking and Ben with trembling hands as he pulled her in for another kiss, forceful and wet and possessive. 

And when they’d lost track of whose pleasure was whose, of day or night or place or time, she finally collapsed on his chest in a heap. He gathered his arms around her, pressed his lips to her forehead, brushed sticky strands of hair away from her eyes.

The color returned to the room and they were back on the storeroom table, clothes and pestles scattered about in a circle around the two of them, and briarplom powder everywhere. They lay there together until the last of the sunlight disappeared through the upper windows, leaving only torches on the walls that Rey ignited with a lazy wave of her wrist. Ben eventually rolled over and found his trousers, lacing them up, offering his tunic to Rey. She accepted it, fastening the bare minimum of hooks, her blouse and skirt too cumbersome to fuss over.

They took their time making their way up the Tower. In silence, they climbed the spiral ramp hand in hand, leaving the cleanup for another time. Their only plan for a while was to soak in a hot bath together. Neither of them spoke a word as they lay in the soothing, amilynthus-infused water, folded in each other’s arms. Afterward, they made their way into bed and curled up under the linens while a quiet rain shower began falling outside the Tower windows.

———

The young woman had jet black hair tied back in two short pigtails. She mounted her fathier with the facility of a natural-born rider, bounding away from the Tower grounds, making the high jump over the stone wall, flying across the center of the Plain and bringing the animal to a trot along the edge of the Wood Beyond the World. She whispered something into the fathier’s ear and held out a bridle for it to scent. It began pointing its snout in every direction, seeking a trail to follow. Eventually the beast stopped in front of a section of trees that formed a large archway leading into the Wood. 

The woman climbed down, patted her fathier, and tied its reins to the thickest tree trunk. She pulled a satchel off the saddlebag and slung it across her torso before heading through the archway and into the Wood. 

As she parted curtains of blue bitterbirch leaves and trod carefully through the thick underbrush, the sound of laughter echoed in the quiet of the Wood. The young woman came to the edge of a glade, reaching into her bag to retrieve a harness labeled _Narew_ , a braided cord, and assorted pieces of equipment. But she stopped short of leaving the thicket of trees. Peering through a dense patch of leaves, she spied a couple not forty feet ahead of her, holding hands and standing very close to one another at the bank of a stream, speaking softly. The taller of the two was a cloaked man with a broad frame and a strong nose. He brought a finger to his partner’s cheek—a shorter, pretty woman in a green cowl—and brushed away a lock of chestnut hair from her eyes before gathering her in a strong embrace. The woman cupped his jaw with her hands, pulling him to her lips.

The woman in the bitterbirch stood stock-still while the two lovers kissed in the Wood. When they finally drew back from one another, the man rifled through a knapsack and presented a vial. The brown-haired woman took it, uncorking it to pour a tiny drop of its contents into the stream next to them. 

Within seconds, the stream froze, transforming from rushing water into a network of jagged black ice. The couple looked unsurprised.

The woman in the bitterbirch panicked, dropping the harness and other equipment before running out of the Wood as quietly as she could, returning to mount her fathier and hastily giving it a good kick in the haunch to send it flying across the Plain, around the outlying farms, back to the village. 

She rushed straight to the Tavern and a tiny woman with a large voice popped up from behind the bartop. 

“Róża! I didn’t think you were due back at work until Paige and Mr. Tiko came home from their buying trip.” A few of the patrons at the bar raised their heads, eyeing the girl as she panted, visibly distraught. “You look a mess, dear,” the woman said, adjusting her spectacles with a look of concern.

“Maz, I saw something—in the Wood. It—it didn’t make any sense. Master Ren and Rey—the stream—they were kissing—it froze, black like a raven—”

“Slow down, girl. What froze?”

“They dropped something into the stream and it froze and I was frightened and I only wanted to bring them the fathier equipment they forgot for their trip but I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do so I came here—”

“And I’m glad you came. This stream . . . It froze into ice, you said? The color of a raven?” 

“Yes. I swear it’s true, I know it sounds ridiculous but I wouldn’t lie—”

“Oh, dear Róża, I know you would never lie. You’ve done the village a service, you know. You’ve warned the people.”

“Warned the people . . . of what?”

“Great danger. What you saw can only mean one thing: there is a Sith Lord ascendant in the Wood.” A bar patron dropped his flagon. Another one laughed dismissively, while his face went ashen. Nosy stares turned to whispers turned to rumbling voices. _The Sith?—surely not—the Sith are gone—could it be?_

Maz’s voice towered over the other conversations. “And if we do not fortify the village, he will destroy us. The valley, the village, all of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how 'bout them dodgers??!
> 
> \----thanks for reading. If you'd like to check out my other fics, here's what I've got cooking:
> 
> [The Lazy River](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219195/chapters/61127752), a fluffy, light-hearted summertime story set in a suburban Virginia waterpark, with a **_top secret twist_**
> 
> and
> 
> [A Deep Sworn Vow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822522/chapters/54543070), my canonverse fix-it set almost entirely after the events of the-movie-that-must-not-be-named
> 
> come say hi on twitter [@NoeticEdda](https://twitter.com/NoeticEdda)


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